REUNION
by JoaniexJony
Summary: Just before Christmas a tragedy strikes threatening to tear Sheppard's team apart, and rob Atlantis of it's Military CO. Has John's luck finally ran out this time? Sequel to "Sins of the father" with Shep whump, team angst, and my favourite doc, Beckett.
1. Chapter 1

Just before Christmas a tragedy strikes threatening to tear Sheppard's team apart, and rob Atlantis of their Military CO. Has John's luck finally run out this time? Set after season 5 with Shep whump, team angst and of course Carson, my favourite doc.

Warnings:- Some violence to start with and a little bad language.

Thanks to the wonderful shepsgirl72 who despite writing her own fic, made time to Beta mine – you're a star! (Of course, all mistakes are mine.)

REUNION

CHAPTER 1

Hell was an indoor shopping mall as far as John was concerned…especially around Christmas. He never could stand shopping at any time, but stuck in an enclosed space, during the festive season, was really the pits. Peace and goodwill having truly left the building, as normally sane, polite mild mannered people went over to the dark side, uncaring of who they barged into in order to get the last IPod, DVD or whatever the heck else it was left on Santa's list.

Leaving a tinny version of "Jingle Bells" behind, he emerged from the bright neon lights of the elevator and stepped into the gloom of the parking garage, tired, but relieved he had finally finished the shitty Christmas shopping. It had taken four of the longest hours of his life, and left him considerably lighter in the pocket, but the heavy bags were testament that he'd bought something for everyone…including some of the finest brandy for Woolsey, as it never hurt to keep in with the boss. Besides, he'd kinda grown to like the guy, as it turned out Richard wasn't the dufus he'd initially taken him for.

Juggling the packages, and struggling to reach the keys for the sweet little corvette he'd hired from his back pocket, John noticed two teens, both boys shrouded by shadows, hanging around the entrance to the stairwell. At first he wondered if they were up to no good, but once he saw their skateboards, immediately dismissed them as a threat, figuring the only crime they were committing was trespass. The underground complex with its steep, smooth curves a perfect place to practice their moves. Yup, it was official, he was definitely becoming paranoid. As while, okay, it was pretty dark down here, this was a parking garage on Earth for Pete's sake, not a freaking Wraith Hive ship, so what the hell was he thinking?

John glanced at his watch. Nineteen-twenty hundred hours. _Great_. Traffic permitting, if he got lucky, there might even be enough time to meet Dave for a quick drink before their reservation at Alioto's in the Wharf. It was a funny thing, but despite living on a city surrounded by ocean all this time, it had been years since he'd enjoyed any seafood. While the oceans surrounding Atlantis contained all sorts of fish, some edible…some not, unfortunately most of the crustaceans they'd come across were of the large and scary variety. That discovery, having been made by Radek shortly after their arrival.

Who knew that the Czech was a man of many talents? Not only a gifted scientist and pigeon breeder, but Zelenka was also a third generation lobster catcher in his local village. Only discovered after a few beers one night, then reluctantly persuaded to lay down a few pots. While everyone, especially him, looked forward to a nice change from standard rations, things, as they often did on base, didn't quite turn out as planned.

As it turned out, the Pegasus version of lobster was a huge ugly creature with jagged spikes covering its green shell and pincers over a foot long. If it hadn't been for the Czech's swift reactions followed by Carson's nifty needle work, Atlantis second premier scientist would most certainly have lost his hand. Fortunately, Radek didn't suffer any lasting damage, but shortly afterwards a general order was posted limiting fishing to poles only, although for a very long time afterwards the sport somehow lost its appeal…

If he was honest, Alioto's although good, wasn't his usual type of place…too commercial. But his mom used to take them there whenever they visited the city, and when he found out Dave was in town, well there really wasn't anywhere else either of them wanted to go. While relations between them were still a bit strained, things had improved since their terse exchange at dad's funeral.

After he'd returned a few days later to talk things through, and Dave finally realised he wasn't interested in either the business or the Sheppard fortune, a kind of truce was reached. While it was obvious his brother still harboured some resentment about his choices, not to mention the secretive nature of his job, John chose to ignore it, and since then they'd started exchanging the occasional email.

It wasn't much in the grand scheme of human relations, but at least the ice had been broken. So now, after more than a year although their relationship would never be the easy relaxed one they enjoyed as kids, at least their scant communications were friendly. Gradually becoming more frequent, learning bit by bit a little more about each other lives, gaining a new insight into each other and the men they had become. Tonight was, however, the first time they would meet since that day, and John was surprised to find himself really looking forward to it. Distracted, he was suddenly aware of the sound of wheels skidding before a sharp thud on back of his leg's sent him sprawling. Immediate alert to the danger, his fight or flight response got him quickly to his feet, but not quite fast enough as when he looked up to see who his assailant was, he was staring straight into the barrel of a 9mm pointing at his head.

"Just take it easy…" John slowly rose to his full height and properly faced his enemy for the first time. It was the same two kids from before he was sure of it, and the eldest, the one holding the gun, couldn't have been more than fifteen. Not skateboarders after all, but thieves. A good plan he had to admit…make folks think they were harmless then…

"Give me your wallet, Mister, and no funny business or I'll shoot." A lock of bright red hair escaped from the dark hoodie the kid was wearing and despite his air of bravado, John could hear the slight tremor in his voice, and an almost feral, spaced out expression, visible within the boy's bright blue eyes. Damn…just his luck to get mugged, and by a couple of inexperienced thieves, high on drugs at that. For a second he contemplated retaliating, but while facing a gun was always dangerous, in the shaking hands of an unpredictable attacker it could be deadly. Anyway, it was only money after all, besides he just wanted it over so he could get on his way. So, slowly so as not to spook him, John reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket before making a deliberate show of gently placing it onto the ground.

John stepped back and watched as the other kid came out of the shadows to pick it up. "Are we good… can I go now?" he asked while all the while keeping his hands up to show he wasn't a threat.

Angry eyes peered from the black hoodie as John watched the smaller dark haired accomplice count out the cash. "There's only twenty two bucks here, where's the rest of it?"

"Well, boy's," John replied, motioning his head towards the strewn parcels littering the ground "I have been shopping…"

"Take those parcels" The older boy instructed his companion. "And his car keys."

"Now wait just a minute, there's no need to do that, surely we can work this out…" As John instinctively moved forward he heard a loud bang, then watched bewildered as a dark red stain appeared on his white linen shirt. Immediately, as the fiery pain exploded through his chest, a second shot resounded round the cavernous space, and the last thing he saw was the horrified expression on the other boy's face as he felt himself falling and the world turned black.

ooooOoooo

"Are you _sure_ all of this is his blood?" Rodney tore his eyes off the deep red pool staining the concrete floor of the parking garage into the concerned face of his friend Carson Beckett.

Beckett was down on his knees beside Sheppard's hired car in the process of taking samples, but sounded hesitant as he answered. "I'll not be sure of anything, Rodney, until I get these analysed back at base."

"It's Sheppard's alright." Ronon had suddenly appeared at his shoulder holding John's discarded wallet, the pilot's sardonic smile still clearly visible, despite the fact most of his ID was covered in blood.

Without thinking, Rodney practically snatched it from Ronon's hand, ignoring the Satedan's low growl, his overwhelming need for verification making him temporarily forget he wasn't the only one worried about his friend.

"I found it over there," Ronon grunted, while motioning over his shoulder, "lying under that silver Buick. The cash is all gone, but those plastic things you use for money…what do you call them? They're still there"

"Then where the hell is he?" The once soft leather felt wet and sticky against his hand but as he confronted both men, searching for an answer neither could give, Rodney suppressed his revulsion of all things bloody and held on tight. Almost as if relinquishing John's wallet would somehow be giving up on the man himself.

"This wouldn't have happened if I'd come along like he asked" Ronon grunted as he kicked John's car tyre so hard it shook.

"John asked you too?" Just as Rodney gave the Satedan a questioning look, Carson also spoke "He asked me as well, but I've been seeing a lovely lady from hydroponics and we'd already arranged to go to Pier 39 to see the seals." Carson shuddered. "Ugly smelly things they were too, but Jeanette liked them."

Slowly, Rodney shook his head. "You know what this means don't you?" Ignoring the puzzled looks from both men, he continued "Well think about it. Since we got back to Earth we've all been so busy with our own lives, we forgot all about him. Okay, not forgot exactly…but you know what I mean. You," he nodded to Ronon, "have Amelia, I've got Jennifer and Teyla has Torren and Kanaan. Even you, Carson, have got someone else in your life. But Sheppard…apart from his work he's got nothing, nothing but us, and some friends we turned out to be."

Quickly pocketing the wallet, he caught sight of the blood on his hands and grimaced, disgusted at himself, not the blood, before wiping it carelessly off on his pants. "Seriously, when is the last time any of us actually talked to John…and I don't mean about work. Now he's missing, lying hurt who the hell knows where, and the only way we found this out," he started at the pool of congealing blood on the ground, "was because his brother phoned, pissed, because Sheppard didn't turn up for their dinner date. Let's face it, none of us knew he'd even left the base and if it wasn't for the GPS in the car we still wouldn't even have had this clue."

"This sucks. We would have got to him by now if Woolsey would have let us use a jumper to track his transponder," Ronon huffed, before kicking the car again.

"I know, I know…" Rodney replied, "To be fair to the guy he tried, I heard him. But since we arrived the damn IOA, have sealed the jumper bay off tight, and aren't allowing any to leave just in case they get spotted by Joe public."

"Didn't they know the Colonel's life could be in danger?" Carson asked

"According to Woolsey, they didn't consider that to be a real possibility. After all this was Earth, not Pegasus, and the new guy in charge…what's his name?... thought John was probably chilling out somewhere and forgot the time." Rodney tried hard not to keep staring at the bloody floor as he forced himself to look back at his two friends. "The guys a real moron…they all are. No one knows him like we do, or how hard he's worked to become friends with his brother again."

There was silence for a few moments before Carson started to clamber to his feet "Anyway, lads. I've got all the samples I need so let's head back." Rodney went to extend a hand to help him the rest of the way, just as he saw Lorne approach.

"You might want to delay that, Doc. We've just found out Colonel Sheppard was taken to Mercy General a couple of hours ago. He's been shot...and they're waiting for you in surgery.

ooooOoooo

TBC

Hoped you enjoyed the first chapter, and as always I really like to know what you guy's think. So please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for all the reviews and alerts - they really mean a lot. Now on with the story...how is our boy?

REUNION

CHAPTER 2

How he'd survived long enough for someone to find him, Carson didn't know, but one thing was for sure. It was a bloody miracle John was still alive, in fact, if it wasn't for the myriad of machines pumping both blood and oxygen into his broken body, Lt Colonel Sheppard would most certainly have passed into the next life, many hours ago.

Since he'd met the pilot all those years ago, Carson had lost count of the numerous scrapes he'd pulled him though. He'd even managed to nearly kill the man himself, not once but twice, a guilt he still bore. It was his retrovirus that caused the colonel terrible pain as he gradually turned into a mutant, not to mention the excruciating reversal he'd also endured as his body slowly returned to one hundred percent John Sheppard.

Despite John's assurances that he didn't hold him accountable for the accident, to this day Carson still suffered sleepless nights agonising about what could have happened if Sheppard had died at his hands. While it was true no one man made Atlantis what it was, without Sheppard at the helm during all of the trials they'd faced over the last five years, he for one wasn't sure if any of them would have survived, let alone the city itself.

One time, over too many whiskeys, he'd let his guard down and confessed to Rodney all about his recurring nightmares and almost choked when McKay had the bloody cheek to call _him_ melodramatic. Now, however, as with heavy heart he steeled himself to tell the anxiously waiting group the news, Carson knew that what he was about to say would sound exactly that.

While delivering bad news was never pleasant, it was unfortunately nothing new to him. What made this time particularly hellish was not just because the man in question was a good friend, but that the attack was so pointless. The mere thought Sheppard survived battles with the Wraith, Genii, the Replicators, and even Michael, only to nearly lose his life just because some trigger happy little Ned needed money for his next fix…was so unfair.

After spending over eight hours in surgery, assisted by the best surgical team available outside of Atlantis, while grateful for the courtesy extended to him by Mercy General, Carson was nonetheless anxious to get the Colonel back to base as soon as possible.

With Sheppard's condition dangerously unstable he'd had no choice but to carry out the initial surgery here, but was nonetheless still extremely loath to even consider performing the more demanding brain surgery required, without access to the advanced facilities available on Atlantis. Yet getting John there was problematic, travelling by conventional means out of the question in his current condition, so all he could do was pray Colonel Caldwell put his foot down and got the Daedalus here ASAP before the Colonel's condition deteriorated any further.

Carson stumbled, exhaustion coupled with apprehension making him slightly light headed. Forty winks and a bite to eat were what the doctor ordered, if he could force anything down. But first, his duty was to his friends who waited anxiously beyond the pale yellow door of the unfamiliar waiting room.

"Carson…about time! What the hell is going on? Those pretty little candy stripers keep coming in and offering us enough tea and coffee to sink the Titanic, but no one will tell us a thing!"

"Calm down, Rodney, and take a seat." Carson put out his hand, and gently but firmly instructed his old friend in a tone which brooked no argument. "In fact that goes for all of you." He addressed the others who'd also risen from their chairs the moment he'd entered the room. "Because what I have to say will take quite a while"

ooooOoooo

"As you know by now, Colonel Sheppard was brought in late last night after being shot during a mugging," Ignoring Ronon's grunt, Carson carried on quickly so as to avoid interruptions. "The first bullet entered through the chest wall, nicking the pleural cavity, then continued on to lacerate the spleen. However, despite the serious nature of the injuries, the surgery went pretty well, all things considered, and I am reasonably confident that in this respect at least, Colonel Sheppard should eventually make a full recovery."

Suddenly the room started to sway, and he was aware of Teyla rushing to his side and guiding him to an empty chair.

"Are you alright, Carson?"

"Thanks, lass. I'm fine, just very tired. Once I'm finished speaking to you, I'll get myself something to eat and a take a short nap…promise." He smiled into her concerned eyes before he composed himself to continue. "Anyway, as you are probably also aware there was a second bullet, which regrettably struck John on the temple."

Carson watched as all the colour ran from Rodney's face as the enormity of what he'd just said struck home. "While most of the bullet ricocheted off the skull causing relatively minor damage, unfortunately a shard broke free, and lodged itself deep within the left frontal lobe of his brain. Given the extremely delicate nature of the injury, on top of the lengthy surgery the colonel has already endured, I've decided it too risky to carry out another procedure for the moment. Plus, I would prefer to wait if possible until I can get him back to Atl…_home_. "

"Are you saying my brother is going to be left permanently brain damaged?"

Carson turned round startled, surprised to see a tall dark haired man in a crumpled suit standing by the open doorway. "My apologies, Mr Sheppard, I didn't realise you were still in the city."

"I got a call from someone called Woolsey just as I landed in New York. He told me what happened and I got the first available flight back, but you didn't answer my question, Doctor."

"Beckett…Carson Beckett," Carson answered

"Well, Doctor Beckett," David repeated, a note of apprehension still apparent to Carson, even in the businessman's cool derisive tone, "is John going to be left permanently disabled?"

"How about it, Carson?" Rodney demanded "I know what you medics are like for sugar coating stuff, but stop trying to protect us… we'd all like to know the truth."

Raking a trembling hand though his hair, he paused for a moment as he gazed over all the anxious faces in the room. "The honest truth is I don't know. While injuries like the one John has sustained do leave some form of brain damage, it's impossible to know until after the surgery how severe it is, or whether or not he can be successfully treated by rehabilitation …"

"Or spends the rest of his life in a wheelchair with a nurse wiping the drool from his mouth," David Sheppard interrupted, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

"Mr Sheppard…may I call you David?"

"No, actually you may not, _Doctor_ Beckett. In fact you should be aware I've already contacted my own physician to arrange for a second opinion to be carried out, and at the earliest possibility, I will be removing John from this facility and taking charge of his care."

"Just who the hell do you think you are…" Ronon glowered at Sheppard and went to confront him, but Carson stopped him dead in his tracks by standing up and blocking his path, facing John's irritate brother full in the face.

"It's okay, Ronon. Mr Sheppard is understandably upset, as we all are, at receiving word of the nature of his brother's condition. However, Mr Sheppard, while I will co-operate fully with any second, third, fourth or even fifth opinion you wish carried out, let me make _myself_ perfectly clear. Lt Colonel John Sheppard is still a member of the armed forces under the employ of the United States Government. Therefore, as such, while he continues to remain in their service I, as one of their senior medical officers, will continue to be responsible for his primary care, and that situation will remain until such times as the colonel either chooses to leave of his own volition, or is medically discharged from his command."

"I'm a very wealthy and powerful man, Doctor, and you've not heard the end of this"

"Look, laddie." Carson was rapidly growing weary of the pointless argument, and motioned over his shoulder to Teyla, Rodney and Ronon, who were standing closely behind him. "John maybe your brother, but he is also our dear friend who means a great deal to all of us. So if I thought for one second someone else could do a better job…well I would happily step aside and let them get on with it."

Watching as the fight seemed to evaporate from the older Sheppard's brown eyes, Beckett continued. "I realise this has been a terrible shock, Son, but you can be assured John is getting the very best treatment available, and now if you would like…although I warn you, he looks quite a mess, I'll take you to see him."

Almost as if the heated exchange of the few minutes before had never happened, David replied in a courteous manner. "Thank you, Doctor Beckett…I would appreciate that."

ooooOoooo

The whisky burned his throat as he knocked it back in a single gulp, but the warmth he sought was missing. Nothing, it seemed, made any dent on the chill that gripped hold of his heart.

Cowardice was not a quality possessed by any of the Sheppard males. His father, Patrick, had been a determined, stubborn man who some might even have called ruthless. Yet despite his critics his dad's single-minded dogged persistence made Sheppard Enterprises the success it was today. An achievement he'd continued with profits still soaring, despite the recession that seemed to have wrecked havoc on most of their competitors.

With shame, he realised that cowardly was the only way to describe his behaviour when he saw the sight of John, unrecognisable, his once handsome face swathed in bandages with tubes snaking out of his nose and mouth, attached to machines that were probably the only things keeping him alive.

He'd walked away…Beckett had been talking to him and without a word he'd just turned on his heel and stormed down the corridor. Why did he do that? What sort of person did something that that?

Dave thumped his glass on the counter, and ignoring the questioning look on the barkeep's face, waited until it was filled before he drained it, repeating that action several times over the next few hours till a shake of the head told him it was time to go. The stern expression saying there would be no more booze to numb the pain tonight. Yet as he tried to rise, he flopped back down, legs like rubber, and as he stared into the the empty glass felt hot tears fall unhindered down his face, knowing he'd failed his brother not once, but twice during the last twenty-four hours.

John had stood him up, that's the way he'd seen it. His oh, so important hush, hush National Security job, had got in the way again, just like at their dad's funeral. So typical of him to put his own needs, his own priorities in front of others…family. Just like when he'd left home to join the Air Force, leaving him with no choice but to stay behind and help dad run the business. Didn't John realise that he, too, used to have dreams of his own?

The problem was after all the years of silence it was just so easy to think the worst of him, conveniently forgetting that the raging arguments between John and their father were because dad tried to bully him. He'd choosen instead to feel angry and bitter at being left to deal with it all, giving up his own aspirations of becoming a doctor in order to support the old man, especially when his health started to fade.

Looking back, it couldn't have been easy for him to attend the funeral, to set foot into the lion's den, surrounded by strangers who'd only heard of you as the black sheep, the prodigal son who abandoned his father only returning to get his share of the spoils. Yet John wanted none of it…he'd only come to pay his respects, to say goodbye to the man who gave him life.

Fact was, John was the most courageous one of them all. He'd stood up to their domineering father where he didn't have the guts, then forged a career for himself doing something worthwhile, knowing full well in doing so he left the Sheppard power, influence and fortune behind. Shamefully, Dave realised that if the situation were reversed, and it was him lying in that hospital bed, his brother would never have abandoned him.

ooooOoooo

"Told you he'd be here."

"Well, duh, Ronon…how many bars are there close to the hospital? Two…three? Besides it wasn't rocket science looking for a guy wearing Armani."

"Hoogo Boss, actually." Dave slurred as he saw the two men from the waiting room come over to stand behind him. "You're…Rumen…John's friend," he said, suddenly remembering where he'd saw the big man before.

"It's Ronon…and you've had enough. You're leaving with us…**now**."

As he felt two strong arms start to drag him off the seat, he stepped back and staggered before falling onto the floor. "Nooo…wha do you want with me?"

"Just pick him up, Ronon, it'll save time."

The shorter man giving the orders seemed to have a twin brother, but Dave decided he didn't like either of them. "Who the hell are you?"

"Doctor Rodney McKay, a friend of John's, and whether you like it or not, you're coming with us, because your brother would expect us to take care of you."

Dave tried to bat the big guy's hands away, but he was fighting a losing battle as he was hauled, unsteadily to his feet. "Go away…both of you. I don't deserve to be helped. I ran away from him. I…I just couldn't bear seeing him like that."

"Well, you didn't manage to run very far, did you?" He hauled his eyes off the floor to see McKay talking to him. "You might be an arrogant SOB, Sheppard, but you would have come back."

"Would I?" David replied as he bumped against him, nearly taking them both down.

"Ronon…you mind?" Suddenly, he felt himself lifted up and slung over Ronon's shoulder as the one called Rodney continued talking to him. "I know you didn't come all the way from NY just to spend your time getting drunk in a shithole like this…did you?"

"Sssuppoose not…"As they left the dimly lit bar and headed outside, all Dave could think was that the world looked really strange from this angle…and all the bouncing around was making him really sleepy.

"Rumen…Rody?"

"What is it now, Sheppard?" Ronon asked

"Thanks…"

ooooOoooo

TBC

Sorry...another cliffy, but I hoped you enjoyed it anyway. As always please review, as I do like to know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again for all the reviews and the alerts - They really do give me encouragement to keep writing!

Now of course, on with the story...

REUNION

CHAPTER 3

Stillness was never a quality Rodney associated with Sheppard. Sure, that was pretty laughable coming from him, because he was the first to admit (if only to himself), that he was pretty much wired to the moon most of the time, but John wasn't exactly what you'd call a couch potato either.

Ever since the day they'd met, he'd rarely seen Sheppard motionless. Right from the start, even before Sumner bit the dust, it was clear John was a fellow perfectionist, always making sure everyone was okay, planning every mission down to the last detail, including working late into the night with him. A silent support some of the time, acting as a sounding board at others and often being a valuable help in finding the solution to whatever the hell problem it was. Who knew the flyboy was actually smart?

Obscured by heavy dressings, it was hard to believe it was Sheppard lying prostrate in front of him, only still alive due to the miracle of modern medicine, his life hanging by a thread, with the gloomy prognosis that even if he did survive John would be facing an uncertain future. Since Beckett had told them the news, Rodney retreated to the only world he fully understood…the internet. But sometimes, even he had to concede that a little knowledge could be a dangerous thing, as this time, instead of giving him hope all he learned just seemed to make John's situation more hopeless.

Despite all their snarking he knew Carson was the best of the best, but deep down Rodney realised even Beckett, with all the Ancient tech at his disposal, wouldn't be able to work the sort of miracle John required. Even if the delicate surgery was successful and his friend did survive, what kind of life would he be left with? Mobility problems on the right side of his body. Unable to speak, read or write properly…if at all, and he would lose his mental acuity. In other words, the essence of who he was would be gone forever, and all that remained, would be a sad broken shell of the man John used to be.

He'd let him down…the man who'd sought him out, made him part of his team, his family, given him a life outside of the lab, and in a real sense helped make him the man Jennifer fell in love with. Sheppard had rarely asked anything personal from him in return, and when he had…he'd said no.

Over the last few hours while he'd stared at the machines beeping softly around the bed, Rodney realised his betrayal wasn't just down to the fact he'd declined to go on that damn shopping trip. While his refusal on that occasion was justified, as Jennifer needed support when she'd got word her father had suffered a stroke, the fact remained that ever since they'd arrived in the bay all those weeks ago, Rodney knew he'd been a sorry excuse for a friend. Too wrapped up in his own life enjoying the challenges of helping getting Atlantis back to full operation, lecturing the trainee geeks in the SGC with a view to finding the next bright young thing, and of course being back amongst all the pleasures of being home…with Jennifer.

He was ashamed to admit that apart from seeing John at meetings, or occasionally bumping into him in the mess hall, the fact was they'd not touched base with each other on a personal basis in a long time…too long. Rodney hadn't even known John had left the base until Woolsey told him about Dave's phone call. The truth was, if his best friend died now he would struggle to remember the last thing they ever spoke about.

"Rodney. Can I have a wee word with you, Son?"

"Huh…" Rodney hadn't even realised Carson had come into the ICU and was standing beside him. "Sure, what is it Carson...has the Daedalus arrived?"

"No, not yet, although they are expected in orb…to arrive in the next couple of hours. No, I need you to come with me for a few minutes, there's something I need to show you." Carson looked as exhausted as he felt, probably more so, because at least he hadn't been standing for over eight hours trying to piece Sheppard, like humpty dumpty, back together again.

As he slumped into the hard leather chair in Carson's borrowed office, Rodney was surprised when his friend produced a laptop, carrying the Atlantis logo, and laid in on the polished wooden desk in front of him.

"Did you know that the Colonel had made a living will?" Carson asked.

Stunned for a moment, Rodney could only stare at his friend before he finally replied. "No…I didn't. But John isn't exactly the type of talk about stuff like that. When did he make it?"

"According to the date on the recording, it appears to have been shortly after he was fed on by the Wraith."Carson, replied and both men shared a pained look, remembering the awful scene when during the last agonizing feeding what remained of Sheppard's youth was stolen from him. "Anyway," Carson continued. "When I updated Mr Woolsey last night I was as surprised as you are to find John had made this recording. However given the circumstances, he thought we should see it now."

"Why me, Carson? Surely that should be his brother's department?"

Carson shrugged. "Who knows, Son. The only thing I can think of is when John made this he hadn't spoken to his brother in years. Still the salient point is, Rodney, that regardless of what his reasons were, John has made you his executor, so this is something you need to see."

Rodney didn't want any part of this. Sheppard was still alive, and where there was life there was hope, right? Besides, John couldn't die…not like this. Anyway, why the hell did he land this crap on him? Scratch that, it was _exactly_ like Sheppard to heap all this responsibility on his shoulders.

"And where the hell do you think you're going?" Carson's voice stopped him in his tracks as he reached the door.

"I don't want anything to do with this. John is still alive and watching this would make me feel like I'm giving up on him. Besides, we both know he's beaten the odds before."

Carson sighed."Well, as much as I'd like to believe that was possible, unfortunately this time even with all the facilities available on the base, there is a strong chance he may not survive. So please, Rodney, watch the recording with me. It's the least we can do for the man."

If possible Carson's shoulders seemed to have shrunk a little lower, and if he wasn't mistaken it wasn't the blinding sunlight steaming through the small window which was making those crinkled blue eyes blink furiously. "Okay, Beckett, get out the popcorn and let's see what he's got to say." Rodney was pleased to see his poor joke got a faint smile in return, before both men made themselves comfortable to watch the main event.

Within seconds it was as if they were back in Atlantis, Sheppard's quarters to be precise. With the man himself looking hale and hearty, actually checking out his hair before sitting down, looking a little self conscious in front of the camera.

"Hi, Rodney. Well if you're watching this it means I'm probably dead, or close to it." Rodney's throat went dry and he folded his hands to stop them shaking.

"Anyway, first I should say that I'm really sorry for laying this on you, buddy, but while I would trust Ronon, Teyla and even Beckett with my life, you too of course" John smirked "you, McKay are the only one I would trust with this, so I hope you'll forgive me."

As he saw John reach for a glass of water to clear his throat, Rodney tried to clear his own head and focus on what was going to be expected of him.

"Okay, first for the finances." Sheppard continued. "Well, I don't have much, but any money I've got I want to give to the veterans association, but make sure you leave enough for a large party…and I mean huge. Champagne, the best of whisky for Carson, flowers for Teyla and Elizabeth, and of course enough food and drink for the whole base. You guys mean everything to me…or I should say did," Sheppard coughed, "and I want to thank each and every one of you for supporting me over the past few years, and being the family I never had. Give my golf clubs to Ronon. I'd like him to have them, even if he does use only the one, and my guitar to Teyla. With a sweet voice like hers she doesn't really need any accompaniment, but I'd still like her to have it all the same."

As Rodney continued to watch, it seemed as if John was remembering something as a cloud passed over his features before he went on. "As for you, Rodney, take my Johnny Cash poster. I know you probably think that's weird, as you can't stand his music and probably don't want the damn thing. But I want you to keep it as a reminder not to become a loner like me. Don't get me wrong, I have no regrets about my life and I have you guys, but because of the way I am, my job, I'll never have a personal life. It wasn't that I didn't try the whole marriage thing once, but let's just say it didn't work for me. So get out of that lab, McKay, and get yourself a good woman, maybe even a couple of kids. You deserve to be happy, buddy."

Rodney felt the sting of tears as he thought of Jennifer and the fact John Sheppard knew him better than he knew himself. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he listened on. "Now for the hard part."

John took a deep breath before he continued. "Talking like this isn't easy for me, as I've never considered myself to be a quitter, but bottom line, Rodney, there are far worse things than death. In other words if something bad happens that Carson can't fix, I've decided to put a DNR order in place. So if the worst happens and I check out don't, and I repeat, **don't**, make any effort made to bring me back. Same goes if I go into a coma, unless of course Beckett thinks it's a temporary deal and I'll snap out of it. Thing is, Rodney, I don't want any of you to put your life on hold waiting for me to wake up. So, if the prognosis is bad, and I linger on for more than a couple of months…pull the plug. I know it's a big ask, and again, I'm really sorry to throw this at you, but there's no one else I would trust to make a decision like that. Ronon might do it, but I wouldn't risk asking him as he can get overprotective at times. As for Teyla, she would do everything in her power to keep me alive hoping the Ancestors or some higher power would work a miracle."

A wry smile grew on John's face. "I know Carson will always do right by me, he always has, but he's a doctor and is bound by an oath to keep doing everything he can to keep me alive. Nevertheless, between his guidance and your intellect I trust you to make the right decision if necessary. Oh, and just one more thing, McKay…thanks. Not just for this, but for your friendship. You can be one heck of a pain in the ass at times, but you always keep me sharp, and, well, I'm going miss you, all of you. Oh, and just one more thing before I go…Celine Dion really is overated!"

A final lop-sided smile from his friend and the screen went dark. The only sound, song birds singing through the open window. Rodney remained seated as slowly Carson reached over and shut the laptop before handing it over, assessing him with concern, almost as if he might keel over at any moment.

"You okay, Rodney?"

"Are we there yet, Carson? Rodney searched his friend's face for answers. "Has it come to that yet?"

Carson shook his head. "Not yet. I want to get the colonel under our own scanners first, but I'll not lie to you, Rodney, if there's a decision like that to be made, it's likely to happen during the next couple of days."

Rodney struggled to his feet as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, which in a sense he did, and clutching the laptop firmly under his arm, turned to his old friend. "Do you believe in miracles, Carson?"

A slow smile grew on Carson's face. "I'm Church of Scotland, lad. Of course I believe in miracles, especially at Christmas."

As he rubbed the laptop, Rodney sighed. "I've never been religious. Science always answered all the questions I had. Although the way things stand at the moment, I really envy you your faith, Carson, because a miracle would really come in handy right about now…"

ooooOoooo

TBC

Hope you enjoyed that chapter...if that's the right word? But as always please review because I like to know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you so much for the reviews, and the alerts. John is really in dire straights this time, isn't he? Well on with the next chapter and apologies for the bad language to start, but the man is rather upset...

REUNION

CHAPTER 4

He was only a fucking kid. Ronon had gone to the precinct wanting to tear his heart out. Get payback for the man who was more like a brother than a friend. Yet instead of a man he'd found a boy instead. A snivelling excuse of a human being, cowering in the corner of the tiny cell, so high on whatever crap he'd pumped into his system the bastard didn't even know what day it was.

Whenever Sheppard had spoken about Earth he'd made it sound like a freaking Utopia. A place of wonders, equality for all, and opportunities for anyone prepared to work hard. Not a place where kids were so out of control they took drugs, thieved and gunned unarmed people down in the street.

Frustration replaced anger at a planet that allowed their young to turn out like this. On Sateda, a boy became a man at fifteen. Expected to take his place by his father's side on the farm or in the family business. Education was a privilege, and if you were one of those chosen to study at the Educationary, you brought pride not just to yourself, but also your kin. Disrespect, not allowed. Once, as a cocky kid of fourteen he'd dared to talk back to his mother. Ronon flinched when he remembered how that woman stared at him for a moment, didn't say a word, then suddenly grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to the john, shoving his head in the water for so long, he almost fucking drowned.

Discipline, pure and simple, taught Satedan kids how to behave, what was expected of them, and in a very real sense showed they were loved. Because if your folks didn't care, why would they bother? He knew it would surprise McKay to learn he had graduated first in his year, with an option to continue his studies. Except, much to his mother's disappointment, he'd chosen the army instead, a career he was born for, quickly rising through the ranks to become a specialist, second only to the commander himself. Ronon knew his folks would have preferred him to choose medicine, but in the end they were content he was doing something he enjoyed, something worthwhile, which gave him a sense of honour and pride.

He watched as the scrawny, pale faced kid shuddered in a trembling heap…withdrawal. It reminded him of the agonies he'd endured coming off the Wraith enzyme, and shamefully, what he very nearly did under its influence. The difference here was that his addiction was enforced by a fucking Wraith, who to gain control over his mind, painfully took his life again and again, only to give it back with a little bit more of the enzyme each time. Unlike this greedy SOB who poisoned his body deliberately, stole to fund his habit and didn't care who he hurt to get the money. None of it made any sense to him. It was dumb and pathetic; this boy wasn't worth his sympathy, and certainly wasn't worth the effort in taking his life.

"Ronon." He dragged his eyes off John's attacker and moved into the relative privacy of the corridor before he answered the hail. "Hi, McKay. What's the news?"

"Caldwell will be here to transport Sheppard in a few minutes. Do you want a ride?"

"Nope. Would rather walk…need to clear my head." Fact was, he really wanted to tear someone apart, but as the newbie's didn't deserve his aggression, a long walk would have to do instead.

"You do know it's over fifteen miles to the base?" Rodney responded, surprised, and for a second Ronon was tempted to snark back that maybe he should join him, he could do with the exercise, Except everyone was touchy at the moment, especially McKay. Besides, he liked the guy, and didn't want to hurt his feelings. "I'm good, Rodney…see you later."

As he turned back into the holding area, he saw another youth being un-cuffed and led towards a waiting cell. But just as he went to pass by the boy shouted out. "How is your friend, Mister?"

"Excuse me?" Ronon stopped and stared at the boy, surprised.

"It was my brother who shot him." Tears glistened in a face full of remorse as the youth continued. "He told me the gun was just to scare people…it wasn't even supposed to be loaded. I'm…I'm so sorry. I didn't want to leave him lying there like that…but Tony threatened if I didn't help him, he'd shoot me too. Anyway, I ran away as soon as I could and called for help. He looked real bad. Is he going to be okay?"

Ronon wanted to grab him, shake some sense into him for being so stupid as to get involved in a life of crime. Still, he knew family bonds ran deep, and sometimes you made the wrong choices to help those you cared for, even those who'd lost their way. At least his actions had given Sheppard a chance of survival.

"No. No…he isn't kid, but he will be." Words of comfort to someone who probably didn't deserve them, or maybe said just to give himself hope. Ronon didn't know, but as he left the brightly lit building and walked into the rain, he welcomed the shower. The sharp bite of the San Francisco breeze chilling his skin as it whipped across his face. Then he ran…like his life depended on it. Just like he did when he was a runner. Just like he'd done for seven years until he'd met Sheppard when his life had changed forever.

ooooOoooo

Dave groaned as he raised his head off the pillow only to flinch against the sun streaming through the window, and instantly let it drop again. His mouth felt like he'd been chewing burnt rubber…whatever the hell that tasted like, and the pounding in his head so hard it was a wonder his eyes hadn't popped out by now.

Part of him knew he should really try opening them again, find out where he was. The other part was less curious, happy to keep the mystery and the world at bay a little longer. It didn't take Columbo to figure out someone had stripped him to his boxers and put him to bed, but the who and the where, less obvious. All he could recall, was downing the best part of half a litre of scotch before being carried? Yup…carried, by John's friend Ronon. The nauseating feeling of being thrown over his shoulder and swinging upside down, was something he really, _really_ didn't want to repeat. After that though everything was a little fuzzy. Not one damn thing came to mind, except one…John.

A sound of someone humming, then the gurgling laughter of a child flew his eyes open, to reveal a woman, sitting by his bed bouncing a small dark haired child on her lap. She was beautiful...

Suddenly self-conscious, he grabbed the sheets and pulled them against his chin. "Do I know you?" Dave asked, surprised to hear he sounded as rough as he felt.

The woman merely smiled. "I should hope so, as it was me who put you to bed last night, Mr Sheppard."

"**Wha…**" Dave felt himself blush for the first time in years as the woman continued. "My name is Teyla. I'm one of John's friends. We met at the hospital yesterday."

"Right, so we did." He coughed, suddenly remembering, but mortified at the whole being put to bed scenario. "Okay, Teyla, thanks…Anyway, could you possibly tell me where I am, because this doesn't look like the Hilton to me."

As his eyes became more focused, it was clear he was in some kind of military facility, but it was nothing like anything he'd ever imagined, with sculpted metal walls and a long narrow window…and was that spires he could see?

Almost as if she sensed his thoughts, he saw her rise off the chair, put the child gently on the floor where he proceeded to play with a toy dog, and head over to close the blinds. "Ronon and Rodney brought you here last night, knowing that John was being transferred here today. However as this is a restricted facility, Mr Woolsey, the base commander, would like you to stay here until he has had a chance to visit. In the meantime I've been asked to make sure you're comfortable. In fact, Doctor Beckett asked me to give you these." Telya took a couple of Tylenol and a glass of water from the nightstand, and handed them to him.

Angry at being confined, Dave pushed her hand away, spilling the water over the floor and started to jump out of bed when he suddenly remembered he was only wearing boxers. "My clothes would be a good start, then I'd like to see my brother…**now."**

"All in good time, Mr Sheppard." Dave turned to see a bald, bespectacled man standing at the open door. "Colonel Sheppard is at present being settled into our ICU, then I believe Doctor Beckett will be carrying out a number of scans. After that, I will have someone escort you to the infirmary, but first I have some paperwork for you to sign."

Dave took the papers, read them carefully, took in the words "National Security" and "Non-disclosure" then stared at the two people standing by his bed. "This is a gagging order. What the hell type of facility is this?"

"David. May I call you that?" Telya asked, but Dave noticed she didn't wait for an answer before she continued. "I understand you must be feeling upset, angry even, but if you want to stay here, see John, please sign the papers. In a way, this is as much for your protection as it is for ours."

"**Fine." **Grabbing the pen, he scrawled his name across the two sheets, before handing it over.

"Thank you, and please excuse my manners for not introducing myself properly before. I'm Richard Woolsey. I run this base along with its military commander, your brother. Teyla," Woolsey turned to the Athosian. "Would you give our guest a guided tour?" At her nod he continued. "In the meantime, Mr Sheppard, welcome to Atlantis…"

ooooOoooo

If there was ever a time he needed a drink, it was now. Carson pushed back his chair, raking his hand through his hair and sighed. Most of the time he loved being a doctor, ministering to the sick and injured, and he was good at it too. He'd had more successes than failures, and it was hard to describe the sense of achievement he felt after he'd brought some one back from the brink to return to full health. A miracle worker some people called him, but that was a title he neither deserved nor wanted. He was just a medic.

Carson knew his _miracles_, came from years of training and hard graft, nothing more. Yet today he really wished it were true, as no matter how many scans he'd done, or whatever simulations he'd tried, the result was always the same. If Sheppard managed to survive the surgery, not only would his military career be over, but John would also be left with some form of serious disability. The agonising choice now was which was the better of the two hellish scenarios.

Better, of course, being a subjective term, because there was no favourable option here. It was either leave the man with little use of his right side, condemning him to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair, but with lesser damage to speech, sight and mental functions. Or, if he operated from the other direction, the front, John would regain more mobility, but his speech, sight and ability to reason would be left seriously and permanently impaired.

It was a tragic to think that John Sheppard would never be able to fly again, or do any of the activities he loved, and was destined to spend the rest of his life as an invalid. This once fit, vital man, his friend, who'd saved countless lives, time and time again didn't deserve to end his life like this. However, Carson knew that whatever decision was going to be made, had to be made, and soon. Sheppard's intracranial pressure was building at an alarming rate, and regardless of the probable outcome, the fact was, if he didn't operate soon, both options would become academic. John wouldn't survive the night.

ooooOoooo

"Excuse me, Mr Woolsey, but I've detected an energy signature circling the base. It's not from any commercial craft; I think it could be a jumper."

Richard raised his head from writing his weekly report to the IOA when he heard a rather anxious Chuck on the other end of the radio."Is it one of ours? he asked, knowing if it was, heads would roll… his amongst them since the IOA had forbidden any jumpers to leave the base. "Do you have eyes on it?"

"No, Sir," Chuck replied. "Whatever it is must be cloaked."

"It's a jumper all right," McKay said, as he planted himself at the consol seconds before Richard got to the command centre. "But although the signature is almost identical, there's an unusual resonance which tells me it's not one of ours. It's obviously been adapted in some way. Crap!" Rodney face grew alarmed. "We're receiving an unauthorised transmission…a data stream."

Richard ran over to peer over McKay's shoulder. "Can we block it?"

"Working on it…" Rodney's hands ran over the keyboard before he turned round and answered, "No…no I can't."

"Is it Wraith?" Both men shared a look of concern, before a few uneasy moments later Richard saw McKay's jaw drop open, a mystified expression on his face.

"What the hell? From what I can make out it's in Ancient…and it's a message for Carson Beckett."

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well...Who could it be? More clues coming up in the next chapter! Hope you enjoyed and please, as always let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks again everyone for the reviews and alerts, they really are important to the writer and give lots of encouragement to keep writing.

As for the story...who is the mysterious visitor, and will they be able to help our boy?

REUNION

CHAPTER 5

"Well, Carson? What's the verdict?" Rodney asked impatiently, as he watched the Scot re-check the results of the formula received via the data stream earlier that day.

Carson scratched his head and turned round to the waiting group of Rodney, Teyla, Ronon and Dave Sheppard, who were all crammed into his small office. "From what I can tell, the formula is for a serum designed to regenerate damaged brain tissue. It's years ahead of any equivalent research I've seen, but while it certainly looks promising, ground breaking actually, the reality is there's no way of knowing for sure if it will work without extensive testing."

"So, do you think this will help John?" Dave Sheppard interrupted.

"If this serum works the way it's supposed to, any damaged tissue caused by the bullet and the surgery would eventually regenerate…grow back." Beckett said. "But as I've already said, there isn't enough time to do a full battery of tests to be sure, or know what the side effects if any, would be. Also I should warn you, even if it were successful we have no way of knowing how the colonel's memories would be affected, as in a sense part of his brain would be like a clean slate." He let out a sigh. "Let's just say, it would help my decision greatly if I knew who sent this. Have you managed to find out yet, Rodney?"

Rodney hated the spotlight being turned on him, especially as he still hadn't figured out the answer. For all he knew this information could have come from a malevolent source, someone who wanted to make sure Sheppard definitely didn't pull through. Except John's chances of survival were slim anyway, and his future prognosis poor, so why would anyone bother?

"Humph, not yet, but we've sent out a message to our mystery pilot. Several actually, with no response. Wait a minute…why didn't I think of that? Duh!" Rodney slapped his forehead annoyed with himself, then turned to Carson. "The message was sent to you, Carson, so it's possible he, or she, is waiting for _you_ to reply."

"What do you want me to say?" Beckett asked.

Rodney came over and peered over his shoulder, as he watched Carson's hands poised over the keyboard.

"How about 'thanks'?"

Everyone watched as Carson typed in a short message, thanking the mysterious donor for the information, asking for clarification as to how much of the serum should be used, during which point of the surgery, and if he had any specific instructions for aftercare. After he hit send, a silence descended until it was broken a long minute later by a small beep.

Same as last time, the email gave no indication of who sent the message, but all the answers were there. Including instructions where to find a device, a small, hand held laser, which might assist in the actual surgery itself.

While Teyla went to search the storeroom where the devices still waiting to be activated were stored, the email beeped again and Beckett received one final message…

"How is my grandson?"

ooooOoooo

Sentiment was something he rarely subscribed to, but when he'd discovered the dead pilot lying in the remains of the time machine all those years ago, a sense of loss pervaded his psyche. This man had to have been his offspring, the resemblance so stark so compelling, no other explanation would suffice. Yet he knew nothing about him. Where had he come from? What brought him to Atlantis? Why was the Ancient gene so strong within him…otherwise how would he have been able to pilot the craft?

The metal tags, still warm from his body declared his name…Major John Sheppard. A soldier, a man who's sworn duty was to protect others, even at the expense of his own life, something he personally failed to comprehend. Except a determination grew then and there to find out more about this stranger, what kind of background had he had that lead him to this kind of life? All Brantum knew was from that moment on, he would do whatever it took to get the answers he sought, including befriending that fool, Janus. Anything that would ultimately save this man's life.

Janus had been infatuated with Weir, that much was obvious. Her welfare guarded, his presence forbidden from her sight. Janus had been concerned his face would have alarmed the healing woman, given her more questions than the answer's they'd been prepared to give. Atlantis then had been a place run by bureaucrats and imbeciles, so with his initial plan to gain information thwarted, he'd taken another route, and played the game of deception well. Colluding with Janus, he'd helped him repair the time machine, and learned all he could about the mechanics of quantum physics, time travel in particular, temporarily putting his own precious research on hold, in order to set his plan in motion when the time was right, which in the end, came sooner than he'd anticipated.

Between them, they had tricked the council. Janus choosing to abandon his dreams of time travel in order to assist Weir, preparing her and Atlantis for the ultimate arrival of her future self and his…son? Where as he, under the guise of transporting supplies, had left in the time machine, removing it from harm's way, knowing if it were left for Sheppard to find, he would be doomed to meet a similar fate once again, almost like a naïve child who needed protected in spite of himself. Besides, he'd needed it. It was crucial for his own plans.

Of course, then the real challenge had begun. Unaware of where Sheppard originally came from, or when, Brantum began to spread his seed amongst the stars. Never staying anywhere for long, taking a different guise wherever he'd went, hoping one day, he would eventually father the only one of his line who'd managed to return to his birthright…Atlantis. As the years went past, the curse of time brought its own problems. Longer periods of stasis necessary as his body decayed with age. Missed decades during which his search had been suspended, his hopes declining with each passing year until Madeline…

Brantum couldn't remember all of his wives, but he would never forget the beautiful nurse. The year had been 1938 and he was posing as a doctor working on the island of Oahu in Hawaii. Medicine wasn't his speciality, but even his scant knowledge was superior to most working in the medical profession at that time, so his papers were never questioned, his cover undetected. Madeline had been the sister in charge of his ward and the affair that followed, the typical clichéd doctor, nurse romance,soon blossomed.

Love was an emotion foreign to him, then and now, but still, her beauty couldn't be denied, her thick dark hair flung carelessly over one shoulder and those deep blue eyes, the colour of the ocean itself. Soon afterward, they'd gotten married and in the summer of the following year their union produced a daughter, Martha, who would unbeknownst to him then, grow up to become the wife of a budding entrepreneur called Patrick and bare him two healthy sons.

When the invasion came in 1941 so did his chance to disappear. There was no son to stay behind for, no reason that this union should mean more than any of the others. Besides, war was a messy business, something he had no intention of getting involved in, so once again stasis beaconed before the search resumed once more.

When he'd awoke nearly eighteen months ago, Brantum was disturbed to discover the chamber had malfunctioned, and instead of the twenty he'd planned, he'd slept for over sixty years instead, leaving his appearance older, now sporting a full head of grey hair. The world had also changed alarmingly while he'd been asleep, security much tighter than ever before, therefore more difficult to obtain the information he'd required to make a new identity. However as always, he'd eventually managed to produce convincing papers enabling him to become a part time physics professor in the local university, which gave him the opportunity to catch up on lost time, so to speak, and resume his search for his elusive offspring.

Having nearly giving up hope, he'd been having lunch with his latest conquest, a pretty little candy striper, when she'd told him about a man who'd been brought in the night before. A victim of a mugging, she'd said. Military, very handsome with dark spiky hair. Did he have a son?

Bored with the topic she'd soon drifted onto a different subject, leaving him stunned, wondering if after all this time, the man he sought could actually be the same one lying injured just down the street? Holding his breath, he had turned to his date with trepidation and asked the question.

"What was his name, sweetheart?"

"Who?" she replied, having completely forgotten the earlier part of the conversation.

"Why the wounded soldier, of course," Brantum had asked, trying to contain his impatience.

"It was some colonel or other. I think his name was John Sheppard."

ooooOoooo

In the end, the question of whether it worked or not became redundant, as within minutes of receiving the last communication from Forant, Sheppard's condition rapidly deteriorated and with the DNR order in place, a decision had to be made and quickly, since no one wanted to risk him coding. So, after scanning the faces around the room, Carson realised the decision was unanimous. It was risky, but ultimately they had little choice because if they wanted to give John a chance of returning to a normal life, the serum was his last, best, hope.

The midday sun had been streaming through the window when he'd started the surgery, but by the time he staggered into the waiting room the night sky was covered in stars. Carson noticed that the usual suspects were still present, rumpled and bleary eyed, obviously having never left since that morning, too anxious, he supposed, to do anything but support each other while they waited for news.

All eyes were upon him as he slumped down exhausted onto the nearest chair. "Well, the good news is that Colonel Sheppard survived the surgery and is recovering in ICU. Still critical of course, but the shards been removed, and at least the operation was less invasive than it could have been, thanks in no small part to that laser gizmo. Yes, a very handy little tool that. Made the incision nice and neat, its pulse emitter very precise without the need to…"

"Carson!" Rodney interrupted, and feeling slighted miffed Carson continued.

"As I was saying, the surgery went as well as could be expected, and I injected the serum into the wound tracts as Forant instructed. Now, all we can do is wait and see."

Teyla and Dave Sheppard spoke at once. "How long will it be before we know if it's worked?"

"That part is unclear."Carson coughed, his throat rough and dry, and smiled at Teyla when she handed him a glass of water. "Even Forant couldn't answer that one. He told me this serum has never been tried on a living subject before, so I'm afraid there are no guarantees, people." Shattered, Carson struggled to his feet before he continued. "Look, there's nothing more any of us can do…except pray. So away with the lot of you, get yourselves a hot meal then bed, a good eight hours if you can manage it. And they'll be no visitors tonight," At Ronon's grunt he turned to face the Satedan. "That includes you, Ronon. No one, and I repeat **no one, **is to return here until tomorrow morning…understand?"

"Is he always like this?" Carson could hear Dave Sheppard complaining to Teyla as they left, and smiled. There wasn't anything to celebrate yet, but at least it was good to see John's brother being treated like one of their own.

As he entered his office, his hand had scarcely picked up the coffee pot Marie had thoughtfully left filled, before he sensed someone standing behind him. It was Rodney.

"I thought I told you…"

"What was Cambridge like?" McKay interrupted.

Taken aback for a moment, he poured a cup of the strong steaming brew, handed one to his friend, before taking another for himself and flopping down on the soft padded couch…he was so tired. "Cambridge is an excellent University, but you know I didn't study there, don't you? I only spent a semester teaching, covering for an old friend who'd had a heart attack."

"How was that experience?" Rodney asked, and without waiting for an answer rambled on. "Were the facilities good? And the students, were they keen, motivated to learn? I hope they weren't the usual bunch of moron's just killing time while spending 'daddy's' money."

"Yes I enjoyed it, and…what exactly is all this about, Rodney?" he asked, curious in his friend's sudden interest.

"I've been making enquiries, and Cambridge has a vacancy for a Department Head in the field of quantum physics." Carson saw McKay's face grow red then turn away.

"Why?" Carson asked puzzled. "I thought you loved it here. You have your dream job, a lovely lassie close by. I haven't seen you this happy in years."

McKay looked back and stared at him. "If John needs care, I'll need a different job and somewhere for us both to live. Cambridge seems to be the right fit. The University is world renowned and it's a nice place. Cobbled streets, canals…pretty, you know? I could take him by the riverbank. Let him watch the ducks and the pretty girl students being punted down the water and _stuff_."

"What about Jennifer? I thought you two were serious?" Carson asked, impressed at the change in the once selfish scientist, who was now prepared to give up everything to take care of his friend.

Rodney muttered. "I've still to discuss it with her of course, but I know I can't really expect her to put her life on hold just for me."

Carson saw raw emotion etched on his face, and put a hand on McKay's shoulder. "Rodney, you're a good friend, but I know John wouldn't expect you to give up your dreams for him. Besides we aren't there yet, and may never be if the serum works."

Rodney shrugged. "I know, Carson, but I just wanted you to know he has someone to care for him, just in case. Anyway, I'm going to the canteen…you coming?"

He drained his cup, rose to his feet and walked with Rodney towards the door. "No thanks, son. Once I get cleaned up, I'll get something on a tray and go sit with the colonel for a while."

"You mean like all night?" Rodney said. "Like the way you usually do when one of us comes out of surgery?"

"So you think you know my habits do you? Cheeky bugger." But Carson smiled, because he was right.

"Night, Carson."

"Good night, Rodney. And mind now, getting some sleep doesn't mean dozing over the bench in your lab, okay?" Carson put on his game face as he said it, but knew McKay would do what he wanted. Rodney usually did.

Finally alone, Carson sauntered over to Sheppard's bed, and wondered if the colonel knew how much people cared for him.

Rodney would have been surprised to learn he hadn't been the first visitor he'd had that day. First, it had been Ronon, asking casually how much housing cost in the Bay area. Then Teyla stated her intention that in the worst case scenario she would take John to live with her, Kanaan and Torren on New Athos upon their return to Pegasus. Personally, Carson wasn't sure how Kanaan would take that, as he'd guessed by her demeanour she hadn't asked him yet, but it was a nice sentiment anyway. Only David Sheppard was conspicuous by his absence. Still, to be fair, the cocky businessman had looked like a deer caught in the headlights ever since he'd arrived, or maybe he was just too damn scared of being left to care for a brother he hardly knew.

In the dim lights of the infirmary, John's gaunt face looked almost boyish as he lay against the stark white cotton sheets, and not for the first time today, Carson wondered about Brantum Forant, his alleged grandfather. Without a doubt, his timely intervention had been a godsend, but why seek John out now? From what he'd learned about the man's past, the scientist wasn't the type to do something for nothing. So what the hell did he want?

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well, so now you know who was in that jumper, and he's provided John a ray of hope. Hope you enjoyed this turn of events, and please as always review, and let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks again for the reviews, as I really love the feedback to know what you guy's think, plus, it gives me encouragement to keep going. A special thanks to my Beta, shepsgirl72 for fitting in a very late check on this chapter because of my own time travelling email!

Anyway, on with the story...

REUNION

CHAPTER 6

He could hear voices. Faintly at first, as if through a void, but becoming clearer more distinct, still out of sight but present, close by, somewhere beyond the dark veil.

In the beginning there was no pain, just a numbness pervading his mind preventing thought or feeling. Paralysing his limbs, making him a prisoner trapped within his own body, shut off from the rest of the world. Except now it was creeping in, a vague ache to start, but soon becoming raw and intense, angry spikes of fiery pain searing through every muscle, setting nerves alight as they sprang back to life, the weight of pressure on his head so heavy, it could almost explode…

"It's good to see you looking so much better today, John, but we need to do something with this hair." Teyla's lyrical voice wavered in and out as he made himself try to grasp onto her words. "You are beginning to look like one of those Goths Torren laughs at in the street. It's falling into your eyes on one side but the other…I know you won't be happy when you see Doctor Beckett's handiwork, but it's only a small bald patch after all, and off to the side, so the scar won't be too noticeable once it starts to grow back."

_Teyla…I'm here, can't you hear me?_ He cried out, but there was no sound…why? What the hell had happened to him?

"Anyway, I've discussed it with Kanaan and he eventually agreed you can come and live with us. It makes perfect sense, as Torren has always loved having you around, plus in New Athos you will still be close to Atlantis and all your friends." He felt his hair being gently swept off his face, and something small and wet fall onto his cheek.

"I know," Teylas voice sounded husky and rough. Was she crying? "It isn't the life you want, but Rodney, Ronon, even your brother, agreed in the end, that it's the best option for you. In the beginning, David wanted to put you in a special facility near his home, but we wouldn't allow it. I thought Ronon was going to hit him at the mere suggestion of locking you away, but Rodney intervened. You would have been impressed at the way he stood up to him…I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you recently, John, but my life has changed so much since Torren was born. But I'm here for you now…we all are."

He wanted to reach out. Tell her that he'd never felt let down by her, or any of his friends. But he was struggling to fight out of his cocoon…He was in so much agony. "Nnnnghnn…"

ooooOoooo

"Carson! Come quickly, I think John is coming round. He…he's touching my hand!"

Carson knew from bitter experience that patients suffering serious head trauma could make sounds, but often they meant nothing. Just a noise coming from a human shell as the body went through the routine business of living. However, the moan along with the reflex reaction was promising. Very promising indeed, and he started to dare to hope.

"Colonel Sheppard…John." Carson saw Teyla's smile as he watched the hand in hers flex, as if trying to grip. "Are you in pain, son?" he asked anxiously. "Well, if you are, let me know by opening your eyes…okay?"

Immediately, hazel eyes stricken with pain flew open meeting his, and the message was clear. John was in distress, but more than that, he was _aware_. "Nice to have you back, Colonel. Now just hold on for a wee minute and I'll get something you make you more comfortable."

Pain was never normally a good thing, but in this occasion it was the best possible result. It clearly told him the nerve centre in the brain was coming back to life and with it, letting the pilot know the extent of his injuries. Still pain didn't have to be tolerated, so nearly stumbling with excitement he rushed over and got a healthy dose of his strongest painkillers and quickly loaded them into the IV.

Sheppard's response was almost instantaneous as the hand relaxed and lay limp against the sheets, his strained eyes slowly shut. "Good, lad. Now get some sleep, and I'll be back to see you later." Carson laid a reassuring hand on John's arm giving it a squeeze, before nodding to Teyla as he started to walk away.

"Thnxs…"

He turned at the mumbled response, shocked. However John was now asleep, but he hadn't imagined it as Teyla was beaming, with tears of joy streaming down her face.

"He's going to be alright, isn't he, Carson?" she asked with eyes filled with hope.

Carson grinned. "Yes, love. I do believe he is."

ooooOoooo

"Well…hasn't anyone told him yet?"

His vision was still a little fuzzy and he couldn't completely make out the finer features of the McKay shaped blob sitting by his bed, but the snarky tone was unmistakable. "Told _him_ what?" John yawned, suddenly awake.

"That cook saved you some of the turkey from Christmas dinner." He was sure he heard Rodney yelp as Teyla answered, but as his senses were still a little out of whack, he couldn't really be sure.

"Well, get her to keep it a bit longer would you, 'cause I can't taste much of anything at the moment, so it would be pretty much wasted on me right now." John shuffled in bed attempting to sit up and grimaced as pain shot through his chest and head.

"Easy, Sheppard…" Rodney said, as he came over to help him. "No running, before you can walk, huh? I thought you had agreed to let others help you? Besides it's barely a week since you returned to the land of the living."

"I wasn't aiming to go anywhere, McKay. I was only trying to sit up…damn useless arm." John grumbled and shot Rodney a scathing look, immediately regretting it, as Rodney, hell all of his friends had been great. He was just getting so frustrated at the blasted weakness on his right side.

"Well, I can hear your mouth is working just fine." John slowly turned round when he heard Dave enter the ward. "Just ignore him, Doctor McKay, he's always been the same, even as a kid."

"Dave…" John warned, but was completely ignored as the elder sibling continued. "You always knew John was in real trouble if he got hurt or sick, because he used to go all quiet…"

"Oh, yeah! That whole stoic thing he does," Rodney interrupted.

"But, when he was getting better, he was the worst patient. Real moody, so impatient and what a grouch!" As Dave was speaking he couldn't be certain, but John was pretty sure he was grinning from ear to ear.

"Quite finished torturing the wounded man, have you? So how about helping me up?" John replied, feeling a little miffed, but in a way less of an invalid as his friends were snarking with him, making him feel that life was gradually returning to normal. At least one good thing had come out of his attack. His relationship with Dave was steadily getting back on track, better than it had been in years. Although he would have preferred it could have happened without taking a bullet to the head.

He was achy and exhausted by the time Dave and Rodney hauled him up against the pillows, and a nap sounded really good, but that was all he did these days. That, and physical therapy to build up the strength on his right side, which was improving, but not quick enough for his liking.

Beckett had told him because of the damaged brain tissue, his body was reacting as if he'd suffered a stroke. Although the Scot also said he was delighted with his progress so far, and reckoned if the tissue continued to regenerate at the same rate over the next couple of months, there was no reason why he wouldn't make a full recovery. Which including getting back if not 20/20 vision, at least close enough so he could continue flying…which if he was honest, was what had worried him most.

Constantly in a muzzy, drug induced haze, John knew the medication was necessary for his beleaguered brain to cope with the continuous ache, but his dulled senses frustrated the hell out of him and prevented him grasping the one question flitting around the recesses of his mind, something he needed to ask. Something about his whole situation that didn't quite ring true.

"Okay, which one of you has the mirror?" He'd zoned out for a minute, something he did a lot these days, but suddenly remembered asking someone the other day to bring a mirror so he see the damage for himself.

Teyla seemed hesitant. "Are you sure you don't want to wait a few days more until your sight becomes clearer?"

"He wants to make sure Carson didn't give him, what did he say the Scots call it? Oh, yeah, a 'baldie'!" Rodney snarked, his amusement evident.

"Dad always had problems getting him to the barber," Dave chipped in.

"Really?" Rodney mocked. "Well there is a _surprise_."

"Just give me the damn mirror!" John thumped the bed with his good hand, immediately regretting it, as he choked on a cry when a sharp nauseating pain spiked through his head.

"John!" He heard Teyla call out and felt himself eased down against the pillow, as she grasped his hand, holding on tight, until he felt the agonising pounding gradually dull back to the familiar ache.

Cracking open his eyes, he could see the concern mirrored on everyone's faces, and Beckett storm across the room. "What the hell is with you people? Just because he's putting a brave face on it, doesn't mean the colonel isn't still a very sick man. "

"Doc…I'm fine" John interrupted, but Carson wasn't finished with his tirade.

"No, son, you're not. And as for you lot…out!" Carson turned from taking his vitals to glare at each one of them…especially, John noted, Rodney.

John felt sorry for McKay, as he tried to stay and apologise, but Beckett was having none of it, and he was hustled away between Teyla and Dave, who touchingly, still looked worried.

Exhausted, feeling completely drained, John saw Beckett about to top up his IV with some more drugs, and reached for his arm. "What is it, Colonel? You need these, so no arguing about it."

Tiredly, John slurred. "Wouldn't dream of it, Doc. But could you please get me a mirror?

Beckett loaded the drugs, then gave him a sharp look, before reaching into his pocket to produce a small oval mirror. "Here, I've been waiting for you to ask, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you of all people, the scaring will eventually die down."

His hand was trembling as he held the mirror, but it wasn't from exhaustion, the fresh drugs in his system of the sight of the angry red scars on the top and side of his head. Because even with his blurred view of the world something was suddenly completely and utterly transparent. "Why aren't I dead, Carson?"

ooooOoooo

The mission report concerning Colonel Sheppard's and Doctor McKay's abduction on Tynos made disturbing reading. Not just because of the horrendous torture inflicted upon his military CO, although Sheppard's injuries were appalling, but more the reason as to why he was targeted. It was alleged then John Sheppard was the son of Brantum Forant, an Ancient who had experimented on hundreds of their people. In the end disappearing, leaving their mutated corpses hidden in shallow graves. Watching the man himself emerge from the jumper bay, it was abundantly clear why Jusana Pryama was convinced of the connection, because from the grey spiky hair tied in a ponytail falling down his back to the hazel eyes glinting from the slim athletic frame, this man could be John Sheppard in twenty years time.

Now, of course, Forant had actually _claimed _Sheppard as being his relation, a grandson no less, and Richard was the first to admit, his intervention had doubtless saved John's life.

Yet he was still suspicious of his motives, concerned that the IOA paid scant regard to the allegations in the report, and more than a little anxious that a man with the ability to travel through time was present in his base. None the less, welcome him he must, as a living breathing Ancient was not someone to be turned away…especially one who offered information and assistance.

Even in the subdued lighting prevalent in the Ancient corridors, the resemblance was even more startling close up, as Richard quelled his apprehension and extended a hand in greeting to the stranger striding towards him.

"Good morning, Mr Forant. I am Richard Woolsey, the base commander here, and it's my pleasure to welcome you back to Atlantis."

Forant smiled, a lopsided smile Richard knew so well as Forant stood for a moment just looking about, seemingly drinking in everything around him. "Thank you, Richard…it's good to be home."

ooooOoooo

TBC

So, Grandpa's in the building...what's going to happen next? Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please, as always review.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks again for all the reviews. It really means a lot to a writer to get feedback, and I appreciate the support.

Now on with the story...How is John faring, and what does Forant want?

REUNION

CHAPTER 7

Miko was all over him like a rash, her big brown eyes appearing twice their usual size even without the magnification of the thick spectacles she usually wore. Rodney was pretty sure it was no coincidence his female associate switched to contacts after Forant first entered the lab, but conceded why should she be any differently from the rest of the sycophants tied to his every word. Even Radek, the freaking idiot, who'd started trying to tame his unruly mop into the most pathetic ponytail he'd every seen.

They were all morons in his book. Couldn't they see what Forant was up to? Sure he was handsome, in a distinguished Sheppard sort of way, and extremely charming. Feigning interest in their work, offering suggestions as to how it could be done better and faster, not forgetting the main reason why the IOA had extended their invitation. As Forant was willing to activate the countless artefacts still lying dormant even after five years.

He'd also revealed the whereabouts of hidden labs all over the city, including the one that had been his, although there wasn't much left, everything removed by his colleagues over 10,000 years ago. Rodney wasn't impressed though, because the guy was obviously up to something, he just didn't know what it was yet.

Still, even he would admit to wanting a peek inside that ship. A jumper, no different from any of the others on the outside, but instead of flying into space this machine took you through space _and_ time, something no other man had done before, unless you counted Dr Who.

He wondered if it had a chameleon circuit that made it look like a jumper because it was in Atlantis, but would change its appearance to blend in where ever it landed…like a pillar in ancient Rome. And how did it work? Did it dematerialise like the TARDIS to travel through the time vortex, then rematerialise at the intended destination? Did it make that wonderful cranking, whoosh, whoosh, noise as it went? Except much to his frustration, Forant wasn't allowing any visitors, going so far as to activate a force field to keep prying eyes at bay.

Rodney knew the guy had been sussing him out for days, aware he was a member of Sheppard's team, and probably desperate for information about his _grandson. _But he'd made himself scarce when Forant was around, leaving it to Zelenka to do the honours, although pretty sure he'd seen a flash of irritation in those hazel eyes the first time he'd walked out the room. Well, it was just too bad as far as he was concerned, because Woolsey, on Beckett's advice had forbidden Forant access to John until the pilot was well on the road to recovery, as Sheppard was still in pain and struggling with his rehab. Besides, although John remembered most of his life on Atlantis, there were still gaps in his memory, which until yesterday included that disastrous mission to Tynos, something that even now gave Rodney nightmares three years on.

How the IOA condoned Forant's actions, Rodney hadn't a clue. Too thrilled with their visitor to worry about the deaths of a few hundred people. Content as always to stand behind the banner of ignorance, ignoring everything except what they could get out the relationship.

Suddenly, out the corner of his eye he saw him coming, and knew he wouldn't make it to the transporter in time. Damn!

"Good evening, Doctor McKay, how are you this fine evening? I must confess to not realising how much I missed Atlantis, and had quite forgotten how beautiful it is, especially when the stars come out." Forant smiled and for an instant reminded him so much of John, he nearly relaxed.

"Fine, thank you. What can I do for you, Mr Forant?" Rodney asked impatiently, as he stepped back from the transporter, not wanting the man to know he was going to visit John in the infirmary.

Forant gave him a strange look. "A man of few words, Doctor McKay?" he asked, appearing surprised. "I have to say, that's not exactly what I've heard from your staff, who are an extremely talented group of individuals by the way. Although I wouldn't have expected anything less from a department run by Earth's foremost expert on wormhole physics."

"You've read my research?" Now it was Rodney's turn to be surprised.

"Of course! Even before I knew of the SGC and this expedition, I always made a point to keep up to date with all the current research being done, curious to find out how each society was progressing. Including, of course, taking an interest in local cultures, including newspapers, radio and television, as I find it all helped me blend in. Although I should say, Doctor, that much of your work is way ahead of its time…brilliant in fact."

Taken aback, Rodney felt himself starting to blush. "Why, thank you, Mr Forant, I'm flattered. But would you mind if we continued this conversation another time? I have an urgent meeting to attend."

"Certainly, Doctor McKay…and please tell John I'm asking for him would you? How is his recovery progressing by the way?" Brantum asked, giving Rodney a knowing look as he did so.

Immediately on the defensive, Rodney felt stupid, realising he'd nearly got _played. _"Colonel Sheppard is doing fine, but I believe Doctor Beckett gives you regular updates?"

Forant moved his lips, but the smile didn't quite meet his eyes. "So he does. Although like you, the details are unfortunately sadly lacking."

There was an uneasy pause when for a moment Forant stared at him, almost as if he was scanning his brain, before the smile returned in full. "Very well, Doctor McKay. I won't keep you back from your appointment, although it's such a pity, as I'd really hoped to show you round my ship…"

ooooOoooo

The smooth wooded bars were shaking and his arms trembling, as he dragging his lazy leg forward, step by each agonising step. Beads of sweat running down his back, soaking his tee, as he struggled to walk the short length of the poles, but he wasn't a quitter, he _would_ do this. Beckett had told him not to push himself too hard, that he would regain full range of movement in time, but John just wanted his life back and this…was so damned frustrating

"I think that's quite enough for today, John," Teyla smiled, as she waited at the end of the parallel bars with his wheelchair.

"Just one more time round the block, Teyla?" he pleaded, but pretty much guessed what the answer would be by the firm, no nonsense expression on her face.

"John…You're doing really well, but we don't want to spoil all your hard work by rushing things. Do we?"

"No, _mom._" John smiled to soften the snark, and tried not to fall into a sulk as he slumped into the chair, however, truth be told, he was pissed and tired. Tired of still being stuck in the infirmary after all these weeks. Tired and worn out by the constant headaches. And tired of having to catch up on his own life by reading old mission reports, reliving the horrors he'd suffered in the past, things he would much rather have stayed forgotten.

Yet compared to what could have been, a life confined to a chair, unable to do even the most fundamental tasks for himself, John knew he'd got real lucky. Problem was, he was struggling with the concept that his cure, Forant's _magic_ potion, probably came at the expense of all those poor souls who died on Tynos. The knowledge gained no doubt, though altering their DNA while attempting to find a weapon against the Wraith. In the end, he'd murdered hundreds of innocents, who hadn't a clue what they'd signed up for until it was much too late. As to the revelation there was now no longer any doubt he was, sadly, related to the serial killer…well, that was something John couldn't bear thinking about.

"Do you want to go for a shower first?" Teyla asked. "Rodney and Ronon are waiting to see you, and I'm sure one of them would be happy to help."

John shook his head. "No thanks, Teyla. I'll leave it for a bit." he smirked. "All that rushing around has taken it out of me."

As they rounded the corner, he saw Ronon lounging on the chair with his feet perched on the bed and an uptight McKay pacing about, looking pissed. "What's eating you, Rodney?"

"Forant." McKay's face was scarlet with rage.

"Okay…I'll bite. Apart from being a psychotic serial killer, what specifically has he done to you?" John asked, curious as Ronon got up and extended a hand, helping him off the chair and onto the bed.

"He's a smarmy, arrogant bastard…you know that?" Rodney ranted.

"Hey, that's my grand pappy you're talking about," John replied sarcastically, hoping to make McKay feel better, but just depressing himself at the thought instead.

Searching his friend's face, flushed with anger, he demanded. "Okay, spill it, McKay…what did he do?"

"Played me. The SOB played me. I'd seen him work his mojo on the others, but thought I was immune…then he started saying how he liked my work. Yadda, yadda. Then he asked me about you."

"Did you tell him anything?" he asked anxiously. "'Cause I want to put off that particular meeting for as long as possible."

"Duh…of course not. But the bastard knew I was holding back and," Rodney paused, "well… I think he just tried to blackmail me for information, using his spaceship as incentive."

A slow, cynical smile grew on Ronon's face. "Smart guy. He knew what buttons to press."

Teyla put her hand on Rodney's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You are a good friend, Rodney. It must have been hard for you to resist an offer like that."

"Hard…it nearly killed me," Rodney grumbled. "Do you know how long I've wanted to learn the secrets of time travel?"

"Ever since you watched your first episode of Doctor Who, I'd reckon." John smiled. "Thanks, Rodney, I appreciate the sacrifice, but I hear time travel is overrated anyway, besides, we have enough monsters in the Pegasus galaxy."

Before Rodney had another chance to rant, John changed the subject. "By the way, does he know about Dave?"

Rodney nodded. "Yes, 'Mr Smarty-pants, I do my research' Forant, immediately checked out your family tree the minute he discovered it was you at the hospital, but you needn't worry."

"Why?" John was curious. "Dave's his grandson, too. We both carry the same gene…more or less." He knew Dave's wasn't as strong as his, having already had Becket run a discreet test.

"According to Radek, he spied Dave in the hallway and wondered who he was, and it was out his mouth before he realised…stupid Czech. Anyway, apparently he didn't appear interested as he didn't bear your _startling_ resemblance, and hasn't mentioned him since."

"Well that's just great, isn't it?" Agitated, John felt his head starting to pound, knowing he would now have to tell his brother something he would have much rather have kept to himself.

"Don't worry, Sheppard," Ronon chipped in. "I'll keep an eye on him. Make sure Forant doesn't get near him."

"Thanks, Ronon." John eased himself further down the bed, suddenly feeling drained. "Now if you guys don't mind, I think I'm going to have a nap."

"Sleep well, John." Teyla came over and planted a kiss on his head. "And goodnight, Rodney. I'll see you in the morning."

"Night, McKay, and I'll catch you later, Sheppard…I'm just gonna find out what Dave's up to." Ronon jumped off the chair, and quickly caught up with Teyla leaving the infirmary.

"Good night, I'll see you guy's at breakfast." Rodney shouted after them, then shook his head. "What the hell are we like, 'The Waltons'?" Rodney snarked, then plopped down on the empty chair and opened his laptop."Well, I can't face going back to the lab and seeing that bastard again tonight, so I'm going to hang around here, okay?"

John hid a smile. "Sure, buddy. As long as you don't mind if I sleep."

"Go right ahead, Sheppard, but just don't snore, or drool…that's downright disgusting." Rodney warned, but as John sank further into the pillow, he knew it was all a ploy, as ever since waking up in the infirmary he'd never been alone. One of his team or Dave always there, sitting by his side...he was a lucky guy.

"Good, night, Rodney."

"Good night, _John_ _Boy_."

ooooOoooo

TBC

So John is improving and Forant is now a fixture in Atlantis, but what will happen with the two men finally meet? Hope you enjoyed the chapter and please, as always, review.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks again for the reviews, and the alerts, and for all of you still reading the story. Hope you enjoy this next chapter, which will provide a few answers...

REUNION

CHAPTER 8

As he gazed round the magnificent spires of Atlantis, it was hard to believe John was military commander of all this. His brother, a combination of John McLain and Han Solo according to his marines, a real life action hero. There was so much about him he hadn't known.

Sadly, Dave knew their father would've been so proud of John's achievements, his bravery, but the old man had died clueless, still bitter about his youngest son's defiance, his perceived betrayal at turning his back on the family business to become nothing more than a flyboy. Of course, now Dave knew John was so much more than that, and felt ashamed for all the times he'd berated him in front his friends, mocking his secret job as sheer fantasy, and his prolonged absences when he couldn't, or wouldn't be contacted as nothing more than selfish behaviour from an uncaring son.

Towards the end, he realised Patrick regretted his harsh words spoken to John so long ago, but he was too stubborn, too proud to make the first step towards reconciliation. It was a character flaw common to both men, something he also shared if he was honest, but at least he'd had the chance to get to know his brother again, although admittedly, the cost had been too high.

It pained him to watch John's struggle towards full fitness, but even in his worst moments he displayed humour, courage and a determination that impressed him immensely…it was no wonder his little brother had such loyal friends. Yet there was so much of his past he didn't know, that no one would tell, least of all John. Although in a way, the numerous scars littering his body told their own story. A life of adventure, danger and putting himself in harm's way. Just like when he was a kid, standing up for him against the school bullies, incurring Dad's wrath when he came home with a bloody nose meant for him. These were memories he'd conveniently forgotten, content to label John as the black sheep, the prodigal son, the brother who'd put his own needs first.

As a civilian, he'd been denied access to John's old mission reports…bar one. The disastrous mission on Tynos. It was need to know only, but because of Forant's appearance it was now deemed prudent he was made aware of their connection to the Ancient, although Woolsey tactfully suggested he kept his distance. Without saying too much, it was obvious the base commander had concerns about Forant's dubious past and reservations, suspicions even, about his intentions. The details made disturbing reading. Forant's actions unforgivable, but it was what had happened to his brother that shocked him the most.

John of course refused to discuss it, another dark memory to be dealt with another time…just like always. Except Dave knew he was concerned about him, upset that Forant found out about his existence. Aware since the disclosure, Ronon had suddenly become his constant companion, practically joined at the hip, barely leaving his side. Although John needn't have worried, for Forant made no attempt to make his acquaintance, and as for him, although curious about a grandfather over 10,000 years old who looked so much like his brother, with John now back in the picture, Dave had all the family he wanted.

"What the hell?" Carson exclaimed as he stumbled onto the balcony. "It's bloody baltic out here! Get yourself in, lad, before you catch your death of cold. Because I for one don't want to answer to your brother if you end up in the next bed."

Dave laughed as he shivered, rubbing his arms, trying to get some warmth. "You, terrified of John? I don't believe it, Doctor Beckett. It's the other way around more like."

Carson smiled. "How many times have I told you to call me Carson?" Beckett chided. "Anyway, you might be right there; there's something about needles that strikes fear into everyman…even brave ones like your brother."

"Now you're just being modest, Carson. I've seen how you perform in the infirmary. You're a formidable man and it's obvious John respects you."

"And I him," Carson replied. "He's a fine commander your brother. Although the MO has complete authority over all medical matters, grounding whoever I need, including Mr Woolsey if I deem fit. So John knows if he wants to get back to work, fly again, he needs my approval first."

"He is going to make a full recovery though?" Dave asked hesitantly "John hasn't said anything, but I can tell he's disappointed not to be walking under his own steam by now."

"Aye, well, I can understand his frustration, but considering the injuries he's suffered, the colonel is doing remarkably well. Give it another week and there'll be a marked improvement, but I can tell by your face you can't stay that long."

Dave walked with Carson from the balcony and savoured the heat as they went inside. "I should have returned weeks ago, but decided it was more important to make sure my little brother was going to be okay. Still, I do have to get back. There are some big hitters coming in from Japan in a couple of days, who simply won't deal with anyone but the chairman."

Carson nodded. "Well, I know he'll be sorry to see you go, lad. We all will, and your presence has certainly helped in his recovery."

A smile grew on his face, as Dave wasn't convinced if it really had, but he was happy to have been accepted by John's friends. "Thanks, Carson. John's lucky to have a doctor and friend like you. In many ways I envy him his life, living in this beautiful city with such good people around him…"

"But not everything, Son, right?" Dave saw Carson give him a knowing smile as he interrupted.

"Hell no. Not after seeing all those scars." Dave grimaced. "Sometimes I think ignorance is bliss, Carson. In the past, I didn't have a clue what he did, but now I do, let's just say that when he leaves again, there's going to be a few sleepless nights in my future."

"Do you fancy a wee spot of lunch, Dave?" Carson asked. "I'm just heading to the mess hall to meet Teyla and Ronon as I finally got cook to make the haggis, neeps and tatties I got sent from Scotland."

Dave could tell Carson was positively beaming at the prospect of a taste of his homeland, but haggis for lunch?

"Sure. Why not." He suddenly found himself agreeing to try the delicacy. "And while you're at it you can teach me some of that Scots slang you use. I work with a guy from Aberdeen and he'll be real impressed if I come home with a few phrases. By the way, Carson…what exactly _are _neeps and tatties?"

ooooOoooo

He was just as he'd remembered him. Maybe a little thinner, a few grey strands threaded through the dark spiky hair, but the boyish look had gone, replaced by a maturity, the long hard years of fighting to survive evident in the lines etched around those familiar hazel eyes.

After all this time, Brantum didn't know what to expect when he finally saw him, got to meet him in the flesh. Doubts about whether all his years of travel, dabbling with the space, time continuum would alter the course of history, perhaps changing his appearance, name or even his destiny were always there. Yet there he stood, leaning against the balcony of the 'gate room, a mirror image of the youth he'd left behind.

"John…it's good to finally meet you." Brantum felt his pulse quicken as John turned to face him. "I'm Brantum Forant…your grandfather."

For a long moment neither man spoke, then he watched as John pushed himself back, grabbed a cane and proceeded to hobble into Woolsey's office. "Hope you don't mind, but if this is going to be a long conversation I think we should both have a seat."

Pain was etched on the familiar features, as John carefully eased himself in the large chair behind the desk, and Brantum couldn't help but admire him, because even crippled John still exuded an air of authority. "So, I understand that I have you to thank for saving my life, Mr Forant." John said, then gave him a quizzical stare "The burning question is why?"

Of all the questions he was expecting, this wasn't one of them, and Brantum felt himself grow uncharacteristically nervous. "I would have thought that was obvious. Just look in the mirror, John. You are my kin, a Forant through and through, the only one of my offspring who found their way back to Atlantis…your birthright."

John seemed to pause for a moment before he spoke. "You do know there are others here who've also descended from Ancients? Granted there aren't many of us, but in that regard, I'm neither unique nor special."

"That's not what I've heard, John," Brantum beamed. "I'm given to understand that you possess the strongest gene here, not only that, but you are the military commander of this base…its leader."

"You have met Mr Woolsey I understand?" John replied in a sarcastic tone. "So as much as I'm grateful and all, what exactly do you want from me?"

Brantum didn't know what he'd expected, but not this belligerent almost angry man in front of him. "I'd like to get to know you, John. Because ever since I found your body in the wrecked jumper, I knew it was my destiny to father the one who would eventually return to Atlantis. The man who would bring it back to its former glory, and re-established it as the foremost power in the galaxy…you."

John whistled. "Whoa! That's a tall order, chief, and don't get me wrong I am flattered. But just so's you know, I'm only a glorified flyboy who got lucky, and even if I did have the ability to do what you suggest, power, leadership has never been my bag. At the end of the day, the only thing that interests me is getting rid of the bad guys…keeping my people safe."

Brantum was growing frustrated with Sheppard's attitude, and ached to wipe the sardonic smile off his face. However, he quickly composed himself as he desperately wanted…needed…to get John on his side.

"You wouldn't be expected to do it alone, John. I would be here to help you, standing right by your side, teaching you all I know, and together we would make a formidable team. Just think about it," Brantum pleaded, "With my knowledge and your courage we could rid the galaxy of the Wraith, bring peace to its people, and give Atlantis the leadership it deserves. Don't get me wrong, some of the people here, like your Doctor McKay, are quite talented. Nonetheless, this city belongs to the Ancients…us, and only we are capable of leading Atlantis into the future."

He sank into the leather chair exhausted. As these American's put it, he'd now laid all his cards on the table and Brantum was convinced that no one, least of all of his blood, could possibly resist his offer. Yet John just sat there, perfectly still, his face a blank, silent mask.

"Well? I make you an offer to become the most powerful man in the galaxy and you have nothing to say?"

"How many more people would have to die?" John asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Pardon? I don't understand" Brantum asked, confused.

John's voice grew louder. "I said, how many more people would have to die before you found the magic formula to kill the Wraith? C'mon, Grandpa, what was the body count on Tynos anyway, four hundred, five? And I'm guessing that wasn't the only planet where you carried out experiments, right? For all we know, there could be thousands of mutilated bodies lying in shallow graves, each with a bullet through the brain."

"How did you find out?"

"You mean you don't know?" John shook his head. "I nearly died because someone thought I was you, and even when she found out I wasn't, Jusana still wanted me dead as revenge for what you did to her brother…one of those people who died at your hands."

"I'm so sorry, John," Brantum said sadly, mortified at this revelation. "But surely as a military man you understand some sacrifice is needed for the greater good. The Wraith have killed millions over the centuries…"

Brantum was shocked as John interrupted, wearing a look of disgust and loathing on his face. "I want the Wraith wiped out as much as anyone, but you know something, Forant? At least we know where we stand with them. You on the other hand are in many ways the most dangerous kind of enemy there is…a friend. When I think of all the innocent people who came to you, trusted you with their lives, only to end up dead...murdered. If it wasn't for the freaking IOA, I'd throw you in the brig right now and take you back there, so those people could finally get some justice. "

Stunned, Brantum dragged himself out the chair and slowly rose to his feet. "Very well. I take it the answers no then." He glared at John, but the pilot stared right back, unrepentant. "Fine, I'll go and find Mr Woolsey and inform him of my departure in the morning. It really hurts me to say it, John, but I should just have left you were you lay and got on with my life… you really weren't worth the effort."

"So I've been told," John laughed, but for a second Brantum could have sworn he saw a sadness flit across Sheppard's gaunt face before he continued. "But for what its worth, Forant, I thank you for saving my life, and can promise that Ancients or not, we have a lot of good people here who, like me, will continue to do everything we can to fight the Wraith or whoever else is a threat to peace in the galaxy."

"How noble…and how pathetic," Brantum mocked. "You really believe that don't you, Sheppard? In a way, your confidence in these people is quite touching, but none the less misplaced. The sad fact is these earthlings, while quite bright in their way, simply don't have what it takes to survive out in space for long." He shook his head in disbelief. "Anyway, will I see you again before I leave?"

"Of course, I have to make sure you don't steal the family silver," John smirked. "Besides, it would be impolite not to wish my _grandfather_ bon voyage."

"Good night then, John, and I'll see you tomorrow." Brantum paused just as he reached the door. "Such a pity…you do realise you'll regret that decision?"

In clipped tones, John replied, "Nah…somehow I don't think so. Night, Forant, and watch the door doesn't hit you on the way out..."

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well, now we know what the old man's plan was...so what now? Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please as always, review.

Oh, by the way, for those who don't know, 'neeps' are cooked turnips, and 'tatties' are of course potatoes...usually served mashed with haggis.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks again for all the reviews and your continuing support, it really does encourage me to write future stories. As for this one, well we now know that Forant wanted to play happy families, so what next?

By the way, I want to wish all my American readers a very happy Thanksgiving!

REUNION

CHAPTER 9

He felt like crap. Achy and exhausted, completely drained by the meeting with Forant, which kept him awake, tossing and turning all through the night, ruining the pleasure of being back in his own bed for the first time in what…two months? Now his head was pounding too, but he wasn't going back to Beckett, no way. A couple of Tylenol, put on his game face and once that bastard finally left the city, then this freaking nightmare would all be over, and he could finally start to relax.

In hindsight, John didn't know what he'd been expecting yesterday, but had foolishly thought he was prepared.

On and off during the last three years he'd thought about Forant, curious if there was an association, and wondered, in the unlikely event they ever did meet, what he would say. Except seeing the man in the flesh was more disconcerting than he'd bargained for. An image of what he himself would look like in old age, the proof picture positive, backed up by DNA. Whether he liked or not, there was no denying it now, the guy was kin, his flesh and blood.

He'd promised Woolsey he'd play _nice, _be polite, and not say or do anything to upset the new messiah of the IOA, but he'd lost it big time, and wasn't sorry. John still couldn't believe the arrogant SOB had wanted him to turn his back on his people, dismissing them as second rate, insignificant even, just because they didn't carry the Ancient gene. What the hell was it about his family's obsession with power? First dad and now his 'grand father', both desperate to mould him into their ideal, for him to live the life they'd chosen. Why couldn't they have accepted him for who he was?

Granted, at least Patrick wasn't a serial killer like Forant, but John couldn't escape the irony that he'd disappointed both men, who shared the same view… he wasn't worth the trouble. A bitter smile crossed his lips as he remembered those were the exact words his father used over twenty years ago as he'd stormed out the house. '_Leave then, and don't come back. I don't know why I ever bothered with you, John. But I won't anymore, you're just not worth the trouble.'_ Fact was, even if Patrick hadn't meant them, the cruel words still had the desired effect all the same, leaving him feeling hurt and worthless for a very long time.

Shit…it was nearly seven thirty, he'd slept in, and Ronon would be arriving any minute to start his rehab. So, gingerly easing himself up, John gently rubbed his bad leg to get the circulation going before grabbing his stick, and gradually, painfully, struggling out of bed. He heard the Satedan come in while he was still in the shower, the hot stinging burst refreshing his senses, making him feel at least a little more alive.

When he came through, there was a blueberry muffin and hot coffee waiting…Teyla's doing no doubt, and a copy of the New York Times…McKay's. John listened to his buddy telling him what training he'd planned for the newbie's as Ronon put him through his paces, surprisingly gentle for a big guy, and not for the first time John thanked his lucky stars for good friends like these.

"Okay, Sheppard, we're done. I'll leave you to get ready and meet you for breakfast in five." Ronon threw a towel at him, and smiled as he made for the door.

"If you make that fifteen then it's a deal," John called to the retreating figure, as he was drenched in sweat so another shower beckoned. Besides, it would take that time alone to get his bum leg along the corridor.

Everyone smiled as he passed by, and he was touched by their kind words of support. They were good people these new Atlantian's, and so what if they weren't as advanced as those who'd occupied the city 10,000 years ago? He wouldn't swap them for anything. Anyway, despite what Forant believed, John knew from bitter experience the original inhabitants weren't as smart as they thought they were, and what his crew lacked in ability, they made up for in compassion.

As he went to join the line, he spotted Teyla and Ronon at the corner table, and noticed McKay was absent. John didn't give it much thought, as Lorne chatted to him while he loaded up with eggs and grits, before hobbling over, precariously balancing the tray on one hand as he went.

"Why didn't you let Lorne help you?" Teyla scolded as she took the tray off him and put it beside hers on the table. "He offered didn't he, but you refused?"

Teyla's accusing eyes bore into the side of his head as he quickly changed the conversation. "I have to learn to do things for myself. Where's McKay?"

Anxious glances passed between his teammates, before Teyla eventually answered. "He went with Forant to see his ship."

"What the hell! Why?" John threw down his toast, suddenly losing his appetite.

"Forant offered him a guided tour."

Annoyed, he interrupted Ronon. "And of course, Rodney, being Rodney, just couldn't resist…could he?" He was Pissed at McKay for being so dumb, but more than that, he was worried. John activated his radio. "McKay, it's Sheppard, what's your location?"

Only a moment passed before he recognised Rodney's clipped tones, and it was obvious the man was hyper. "I'm in Forant's ship, and, John… it's incredible! Look, I know how you feel about the guy, and I promise to be careful, but when he offered to let me see inside, I couldn't say no. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity and I just had to take it."

Frustrated, John sighed. Forant knew how to press everyone's buttons all right, and in a way, he really couldn't blame the scientist. "No, of course you couldn't. Just watch your back…okay?"

John touched his radio again, this time to speak directly to Forant. "What the hell are you playing at, Forant?" he asked, suspicious. "What do you want with McKay?"

"Why nothing, John," Brantum answered, his voice feigning innocence. "It was clear the good doctor was interested in my ship, so as I was leaving today, I offered to let him see inside."

"Rodney, are you sure you're okay?" John asked, wary about Forant's sudden change of heart, wondering what he was planning.

"Sheppard, you've got to see this! It's dimensionally transcendental just like the TARDIS. Seriously, there's got to be at least nine or ten rooms in here. Wait…Is that a flux capacitor?" John could hear the excitement in McKay's voice as he spoke to Forant, and knew how careless Rodney could become when he got carried away.

"Quite satisfied, John?" Forant asked without waiting for an answer. "See, I told you he was fine. Nothing to worry about, and it's a pleasure to have someone so knowledgeable on board, very stimulating company in fact. Come to think of it, I sometimes get lonely and Doctor McKay would make an excellent travelling companion..."

And there it was, the veiled threat. John's heart sank, knowing immediately his friend was in trouble.

Clicking his radio for Forant's ears only, John's voice was low but no less menacing as he spoke. "Let him go, Forant. We both know it's me you really want."

"Perhaps once, John, but quite frankly, not any more." Brantum's voice sounded bitter. "You've made your feelings about my work crystal clear, so what is it they say? 'If you're not for me, then you're against me.'"

"Then what do you want?" John asked impatiently. He knew hostage negotiation wasn't his thing, hell, he'd pretty much sucked at any attempts he'd made in the past. But Rodney's life was at stake, so he waited to hear what the bastard wanted. Whatever it took, he wouldn't let his friend down.

There was a slight pause before Forant spoke, his smug tone evident over the radio. "Well, I don't really want anything. However… as a sign of appreciation for all the work I've done here, there are a _few_ things I could be doing with before I resume my journey."

"Really? And what would they be? "John asked curiously.

"A new stasis chamber for one, and a ZPM. Oh…and a couple of pints of your blood."

John's head was buzzing. The first two demands he could understand, but the last one?

"The stasis pod shouldn't be a problem," he replied "but it's no to the ZPM." Before Forant had a chance to protest, he continued. "C'mon, Forant. You of all people should know Atlantis needs all three if we want to get back to Pegasus."

John held his breath waiting for his reply, knowing this could be a deal breaker, and really hoped things weren't going to get messy.

"You still want to go back there, with the Wraith threat still raging?" Forant replied, sounded incredulous. "My, my, you are a strange people. Very well, it's inconvenient but I suppose a depleted one will just have to do. They take such a long time to recharge, but I suppose I'll just have to tolerate shorter jumps until I get it online. So, what about my last request, John. My, or should I say _your_ blood?" John heard the cocky tone, and could just envisage the arrogant bastard smiling.

"Why do you want it? Don't you have enough of your own?" John quipped.

"Very droll, John, quite the humorist aren't you? The answer is yes, I do. However unfortunately it has deteriorated due to frequent and prolonged use of the chamber over the years, so I require a fresh supply, from a relation…you, in order that I can make a serum to correct the degeneration. Who knows, with your blood coursing through my veins, I might even live another 10,000 years." As John heard him laugh he shuddered at the thought, but what the hell could he do? Forant had Rodney.

John took a deep breath to steady his temper before he answered, "If I agree to your terms, will you release him now?"

"I really don't know where you got the idea I was holding him against his will?" Forant replied, "but as I know you to be a man of your word, and if it makes my _grandson_ happy, Doctor McKay can go any time he wants."

"Okay, Rodney, it's time for you to leave." John tried to keep the concern out his voice, but knew McKay would realise by his tone, it was an order.

"But, Sheppard…Brantum was just about to show me round his lab." McKay protested.

"**Now**, McKay. I need you."

"Fine, I'm leaving, but you're a spoil sport, you know that?" Rodney grumbled, then asked in a resigned tone. "Okay…what is you want?"

"First I want you to check out the stasis chamber on Forant's ship, then arrange transportation of a replacement ASAP. Then, I need you to look out that ZPM you drained a few years back."

"You're not bringing that up again are you? Rodney complained, sounding offended. "That really wasn't my fault you know. Rod wouldn't have gotten home otherwise. Wait…why does he want a used ZedPM anyway? You mean…are you serious? He actually knows how to recharge these things? That's wonderful!"

"I don't suppose you could show me how to do that…" He heard Rodney hesitantly ask Forant over the com.

"No, I couldn't," Forant interrupted, his tone suddenly harsh and abrupt. "and I'd like you to leave, Dr McKay."

"But…" Rodney protested

"Now!" John heard Forant shout at his friend, then saw the hurt, disappointed expression as Rodney stumbled, dejected off the ship. However, although he was sorry McKay's feelings were hurt, it was far better that than the man himself.

Relieved Rodney was safe, John limped away as quickly as he could to instruct the guards outside to keep Forant contained, then made his way to advise an anxious, but unsurprised Woolsey of the new, disturbing developments. Next stop…the infirmary.

ooooOoooo

Light headed, John leant heavily on his stick as he staggered back to the jumper bay. He desperately wanted to lie down, even take advantage of the chair Carson had offered, but wasn't going to give Forant the satisfaction of seeing him incapacitated. Besides, the man would be gone soon, and a nice cosy bed in the infirmary awaited. Not that he wanted to go back to his second home, but a night in the infirmary was the deal he'd struck with Beckett to take his blood, the Scot, unamused at being asked to take not one, but two pints from someone who was still recovering from major surgery.

"Are you nearly done, Rodney?" he asked, tired, over the radio, just before he saw McKay appear from Forant's craft.

"Just finished, Sheppard. Will I wait for you outside?" John saw Rodney viewing him with concern and reckoned he must really look bad, but shot his friend a warning look, daring him to say anything.

"No, you don't have to go. Mr Forant will be leaving shortly." While he spoke the words, he gave Brantum a pointed look. "Got everything you need?"

"I didn't get what I came for if that's what you mean, but I suppose these will have to do." Forant paused, then gave John a considered look. "It's been interesting meeting you, John, an education even. A Forant with integrity, what a surprise." He smirked. "Such a pity, because you and I could have accomplished great things together."

"I think you and I have a different definition of the word great," John answered, viewing his relation with contempt. "And for the record, my name's **Sheppard**."

"Anyway," said Forant, as he stretched black leather gloves over his wrinkled hands. "Make an old man happy, John. Lets at least part on amicable terms."

He really didn't want to shake the hand of a killer. But whether he liked or not, John knew he owed the man his life, so reluctantly he grasped the proffered hand and shook it firmly.

"Good bye, John. We won't meet again." John nodded in response, then stood and waited until the hatch finally closed, shutting Brantum Forant out of his sight and life forever.

ooooOoooo

TBC

So, Forants gone, but the story's still going? Well, all I can say is 'Whump alert!"

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and as always, please review.


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks again for all the reviews, the alerts and to everyone who has followed the story. I'd also like to thank my trusty researcher Sterenyk Strey for encouragment, and keeping me right on all things Atlantis. And finally a special thanks to my wonderful beta shepsgirl72, for correcting my grammar, challenging me, and making sure my story sounded as good as possible...especially when she is in the middle of writing a fic of her own - of course all mistakes are mine!

Now on with the story. So, Forant has left the building, but what now for Sheppard? Read on and find out!

REUNION

CHAPTER 10

There had been no dematerialisation, no wonderful cranking whoosh, whoosh noise and not even any hint that a time machine had ever been present, as the jumper cloaked then simply disappeared. Rodney was so disappointed, he'd already started towards the exit and almost missed Sheppard as the pilot suddenly lost all remaining colour and listed to one side.

"John!" Rodney yelled, grabbing him just in the nick of time. "What's the matter? You look like crap."

"I'm good," John slurred. "Just tired from a little blood loss that's all. Some rest and fluids and I'll be just fine."

As Rodney shouldered John toward the bay exit, he was surprised but relieved to see Ronon standing there with a wheelchair. "What's going on, Sheppard? What did you do?"

"It's nothing…"

"He gave Forant two pints of his blood..." Ronon interrupted, as he came over and helped load a feeble John into the chair.

"You did **what**?" he raged at John, angry and worried at the same time. "Don't you know how dangerous that is? Why, Sheppard? And what the hell did he want it for anyway?" Rodney couldn't believe his ears, and was about to launch into a full-scale rant when suddenly a horrible thought struck him.

"You did it to save me, didn't you?" Rodney said quietly and signalled for Ronon to stop the wheelchair so he could go round and face his friend, to gauge his reaction for himself.

John was shivering, his bleary eyes huge in his pallid face, and Rodney pulled the blanket firmly, but gently round his neck. "Not your fault, McKay. If it hadn't been you, it would have been Zelenka or someone else on the science team. I'm just glad he didn't use force to take you…I wouldn't have put it past him."

Sheppard went into a coughing fit and Rodney fetched a glass of water from the nearest lab and watched, anxious. John's trembling hand shaking so hard, water was spilling over the side.

"Why didn't you say something?" Rodney paused, not taking his eyes off his friend's face for a second.

"Forget it… I know why. You didn't want to worry me, did you? he asked and got his answer when Sheppard avoided his gaze. "Anyway the chamber and the ZedPM I can understand, but what did he want with your blood?"

Sheppard grimaced, exhaustion evident in his features. "Medical reasons. Look no offense, Rodney, but I'm bushed. Could the question and answer session wait till after I have a nap?"

"Sure…sorry. And sorry for putting you through this. I should've known that sleezeball had an ulterior motive, but I got carried away. Thanks for saving my life…again."

"Would you look at the state of yourself, man." Carson addressed Sheppard as he stood waiting at the entrance of the infirmary looking pissed. "Right, wheel the colonel over to his usual bed, Ronon. It's probably still warm from the last time."

"Ever thought of taking up comedy, Doc?" John asked on a yawn.

"Wouldn't have the time, Colonel Sheppard. I'm too busy patching you up. Two pints of blood indeed…" Carson responded, his worry evident despite the sarcasm.

As Rodney watched an exhausted Sheppard getting settled into bed, he felt like a heel knowing he was responsible for his friend's latest stint in the infirmary. Despite what John maintained, Rodney realised it was all his fault for being naïve enough to believe Forant's invitation was genuine, and not realising the danger he'd put himself in.

"Is he going to be okay, Carson?" Rodney asked anxiously, as he watched the steady rise and fall of John's chest, his face composed in sleep.

Carson checked Sheppard's IV, closed the screen and walked over to join him. "He'll be fine, Rodney. Granted the colonel could have done without this latest escapade, but with rest and fluids, he should be back on the mend in a few days. Do you know what happened to his hand though? There a strange greenish discolouration on the palm, and it wasn't there when I took his blood."

"No…I haven't a clue." Rodney scratched his head, going though everything in his mind trying to remember what John had been in contact with. "I only saw him when he came into the jumper bay. First he spoke to me then Forant, and oh yeah, the SOB asked to shake his hand before he left."

Beckett shrugged. "Well the colonel isn't exhibiting any symptoms, and it's unlikely Forant would hurt the very man he saved. Still, it could have come from anywhere I suppose. I'll take a swab and get it analysed just to be safe."

Rodney had zoned out, lost in a world of his own, so preoccupied with what transpired that morning, especially what could have happened if Forant left with him on board, that he hadn't heard Beckett talking to him.

"I said, Son," Carson repeated, "none of this is your fault. Forant is a devious man who had us all fooled, so stop beating yourself up about it and go get something to eat," Carson smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm busy enough, and I don't want you in the next bed if your hypoglycaemia acts up."

"Sure, okay…thanks, Beckett. You're a pretty smart guy for a voodoo doctor." He watched Beckett shake his head, but the twinkle in the blue eyes told him his friend hadn't taken offence. It was what they did he and Carson. Old friends sharing a snark, but respecting the hell out each other.

"C'mon, McKay. Woolsey's waiting for you in his office, and afterwards Teyla's coming to sit with John, so Torren needs a sitter, and it's your turn." Rodney cringed, not knowing what was worse. The pain in his shoulder from Ronon's slap on the back, or the dressing down he was about to get from Woolsey…

ooooOoooo

All he needed was some fresh air. He was so damned hot, it was stifling in here.

If he could just snag a radio John was determined to give McKay a piece of his mind for messing with the environmental controls again, but Beckett had confiscated it, along with his sweats. Besides, he didn't have time…there was somewhere else he needed to be.

John flinched as he ripped out the IV, his hand stinging at the assault, drops of blood staining the sheets…more precious liquid he could scarce afford to lose. Still, it wasn't much and very soon it really wouldn't matter.

Now why did he think that? What the hell was wrong with him? Some air… that was it. A deep cleansing breath of fresh air in his lungs, cooling his clammy skin, and he'd be right as rain, whatever the hell that meant. John reached for his cane hoping Carson hadn't taken it too, but relieved it was close by the bed. Good…because he wouldn't get far otherwise.

It was quiet in the infirmary, no one about, the nurse on duty tending private Mitchell at the other end, the infirmary lights low, shrouding him in shadows covering his escape.

Although this wasn't an escape, he would be back, he'd promised Beckett, and he was a man of his word, Forant had said so. He just wanted some air…

John's head was pounding, beads of sweat dripping down his back, his chest, his face. Threatening to blind him as he stumbled out of bed, making so much noise he was sure someone must have heard.

Silently waiting for a moment, trying to still the loud thumping of his heart, John found himself still alone, so reached for his cane and made his way out the ward. His movements were slow and sluggish, uncoordinated, as he staggered, almost bouncing off the walls of the deserted corridors. Voices were calling to him, indistinct but compelling, pushing him onwards, he didn't know where, but deep inside, the dark, gnawing feeling of dread was palpable.

Each part of his body screamed, as tension vibrated though every nerve, every muscle, his chest so heavy, pressure building with every step. A weariness engulfed him, weighing him down, he was so damn tried…John just wanted it to be over. But what? He didn't know.

All around a myriad of colours flashed before his eyes. Hypnotic, rhythmic…the voices becoming louder, and louder searing deep into his soul. An invisible force pushing him forward sending him on with one single message…jump.

**No**…he couldn't obey them, wouldn't. Yet he couldn't stop his treacherous body pulling him, guiding him, until he was there, his final destination, the roof of the control tower.

It was dark. Stars sparkled in the velvet night sky as the wind whipped his hair, chilling his skin and he shivered when he saw the balcony... knowing what he must do. Darkness wavered and he stumbled, falling hard against the ground, crying out at the pain searing though his leg. A tear dropped onto his cheek, then another, until unhindered they couldn't be stopped, just like him as he dragged himself onwards, forward towards the ledge.

He punched his fists against the concrete, flinched at the pain biting though his hands, and watched as blood seeped through the ragged skin, but still he couldn't stop, helpless to resist the voices nagging in his brain. He must die…he wasn't worth the effort.

Nausea washed through him and he was trembling as he hauled himself onto the ledge. Just one more step…one single leap and it would all be over.

"**John**. Stop…don't do this," Rodney cried out and John turned to see his teammates and Beckett standing at the entrance.

"Can't stop myself, buddy. Why do you care anyway? I'm nothing but trouble, you guys would be better off without me."

"This isn't you, Colonel," Beckett shouted, sounding upset. "You've been drugged…Forant's doing. Come down from there, John, and I'll help you. Just a few hours that's all, and that bloody crap will be out your system and you'll be just fine." John could hear the words, and somewhere deep within his brain felt relief, but he was incapable of doing what he asked.

"The John Sheppard I know would never take his own life," Teyla stated as she edged towards him. "You must fight this, John, please. We need you…Atlantis needs you."

"Srr...y… can't…stop." Choked with tears, John gazed at the distraught faces of his friends for the last time, before he felt himself go limp as the voices made him take the final step…

ooooOoooo

Death shouldn't hurt, at least that's what it said in all the brochures, but at least it wasn't the searing agony of before. More of a dull nagging ache in his right leg, and a lingering soreness in his hands. Still the headache was a doozy, reminding him of the time just after graduation when he'd mixed shots of tequila with red wine…

A tug in his left hand made him wince, and he cracked open an eye to see Marie smiling at him as she changed out the IV…so not dead, but back in the infirmary again.

"Hi, Colonel," Marie said. "I'll let Doctor Beckett know you're awake."

As John watched her amble away, he wondered what the hell had happened? Last thing he remembered he'd been about to do a swan dive and become a pile of goo on the east pier. After that…zilch. It was like he'd been a prisoner in his own body, incapable of any type of control, yet knowing exactly what he was doing. Not unlike the time he was possessed by Thalen, but at least that guy, while causing havoc, didn't try to kill him.

Now, he felt spent, completely drained. Emotionally as well as physically. All of his hang-ups, the painful memories of bitter arguments with his dad, brought back to the fore in amazing Technicolor…crap.

Forant, the bastard, had not only opened up old wounds, but had actually tried to kill him. Why? Now there was a question. Was it because he turned down his offer to become the crown prince of Atlantis? Or was it because he perceived him as a threat? Who knew? John certainly didn't and right now, he was just too damn tired to care.

"How are you feeling, Colonel?" John scrubbed a hand across his face, and when he withdrew it saw Carson standing there.

"Huh?" John said, suddenly unsure how the answer the simple question. "Tired, sore, ashamed…Did I say tired?"

Carson checked his IV and pulled up a chair. "Well, I should say you would be tired after everything you've been through in the last couple of months, not forgetting the last few days. As for ashamed, why? You were drugged, Son. Some type of mind control substance designed to give the victim suicidal tendencies, but although it was a powerful bugger, at least it dispersed harmlessly after twenty-four hours. It knocked you out for a bit, though. You've slept straight through for nearly three days."

"**Wha**…" John rolled his eyes and flinched, immediately regretting the movement as it spiked the pain in his head.

"Here." Carson put a couple of tablets in his hand, then helped him take a sip of water. "That should help with the headache and the pain in your leg, but I'm loath to give you anything stronger." John gave him a quizzical glance. "I want to give your immune system a chance to recover, besides, once you're up and about…hopefully back to your quarters tomorrow, then Ronon can start back with the physical therapy, which will help ease your leg pain."

"So what's with the IV, Doc?" John asked, puzzled.

"Saline," Carson answered. "You still need fluids to replace the blood you lost, but this is the last bag, promise. Now there are people waiting to see you. Feel up to visitors?"

"Sure. Just one more thing, why am I not decorating the east pier by now?"

Beckett laughed. "You have Ronon to thank for that. While Teyla distracted you, he went behind and pulled you off in the nick of time."

"Right…the sneaky bastard manouver. Think I taught him that one." John smiled tiredly, grateful at his team's intervention, and as he struggled to shuffle up the bed, Beckett touched the control to raise him to a more comfortable position. "Thanks, Carson, and for patching me up again."

Beckett patted his shoulder. "Anytime, Colonel. I'm just glad we still have you with us."

"'Bout time. I was starting to think you'd never wake up. Jennifer's sister is only here for a week and I seriously thought you were going to miss her." Rodney plopped down on the now vacant seat, and John could tell despite the snark his friend was checking him out. Just to make sure he was really back to normal.

"Do you want to back up a bit, McKay." John asked. "I take it Doctor Keller's back, which is good. So how is her dad?"

"Yes, yes, Jennifer's back…arrived yesterday," Rodney continued, "but you were too busy doing your Rip van Winkle impression to notice. And yes, her dad is back at home making a good recovery, thank you for asking. Now, as I was saying…"

"Okay, so what exactly has Keller's sister got to do with me?" he interrupted, still confused.

"He wants you to meet her." Ronon replied grinning. "We've already met her," he winked at Teyla in a conspiratoral fashion, "dark hair, brown eyes…kinda cute."

Teyla came over and plumped his pillows. "As a matter of fact, John. I think Angela is just your type."

"Doc…isn't visiting time over by now?" John asked Beckett, looking for help. "Besides, I don't think I'll be able to make it 'cause even after I leave the infirmary, you'll still want me to hang around the base, oh, until at least after she's gone, right?" He pleaded, but saw Carson holding his hands up, smiling.

"Actually, Colonel, a wee trip off the base for a couple of hours would do you the world of good. And I've met the lass…she's a very nice young lady."

"Okay, I'll set it up for the day after tomorrow." Rodney took out his blackberry, taking the matter out of his hands, and started making arrangements.

John decided he would have one more try to get out of the date. "Seriously, wouldn't you guy's rather go on your own? I really can't walk far with my leg."

"No excuses, Sheppard, you're coming." Rodney said. "Besides we're just going for a drink. Drive there, sit on a chair, move your mouth up and down till noises come out…you know, conversation? I think you can manage that. Anyway, you'd be doing me a favour; Angela's a nice girl, but she's been hanging out with us since she arrived and…"

"And, you want me to take her off your hands," John interrupted, not fooled for a minute by Rodney's lame excuse. "Only one thing, McKay."

"Sure, what is it" Rodney asked with a puzzled expression

"Make sure wherever we go serves Guinness."

As the snark continued around him, John felt his lids start to close, and when he awoke it was dark. His friends had long gone, so had the IV much to his relief, and he felt more refreshed. In fact, better than he'd done in quite a while.

In the silence, John thought of the impending blind date and groaned…he really hated those. Occasionally, over the years, well meaning friends suggested paring him up, some even doing so without asking. But no matter how cute or nice the woman was, it was always awkward, the conversation stilted, and the questions asking how it went afterwards, too uncomfortable for words.

This time, he suspected McKay was doing it out of some misplaced guilt, because he'd been spending a lot of time with Keller. Truth was, he was happy for the guy, glad Rodney had finally found someone to make him happy. Same for Ronon, too, in fact it was good to see all of his team having a life outside of work.

What people didn't realise was that his work _was_ his life, and despite the odd flirtation with the opposite sex, he was happy to keep it that way. Commitment, at least of the personal kind, was not for him. He'd gone down that route once, failed, and ended up making someone he loved very unhappy. Men like him were better on their own, with no ties, and no one to hurt if he didn't come home after a mission. Yet he wouldn't want to be without his friends, or Dave now for that matter, as it was kinda nice to think that if the worst did happen…someone would miss him.

John cringed, horrified at the thought he'd nearly taken his own life.

Despite what Carson had said, he still felt he should have tried harder, done something to make himself resist. Then a thought stuck him that maybe he hadn't, because a small part of him believed he deserved to die. "_You torture yourself every day,"_ his conjured image of Kolya had said, and it was true.

Guilt about waking the Wraith for one…the cherry on top of a very large freaking cake. Come to think of it, John realised he'd had a nerve to call Forant a serial killer, after all the subsequent deaths he must have caused by his actions that day. Although unlike Brantum, at least he hadn't known the implications of what he was doing at the time. Still, the old adage was certainly true; the road to hell really was paved with good intentions.

Yet, despite everything, he was still here and on the mend. So, although not religious, John couldn't help but wonder if something, a greater power maybe, wanted him alive, but if so, why? He hadn't a clue, but in the meantime he'd push his demons back into their box, heal and get back to doing what he did best, and hopefully in the process, try to make up for past transgressions.

As for Forant, the SOB was out there somewhere thinking he was dead. Still, at least that gave him the upper hand if they ever should meet again, and part of him really hoped they would. He relished the thought of getting payback, though not for himself, but for every man, woman and child who's lives the bastard had taken, not to mention the harrowing thought of what he would do in the future, or even the past…

Sheila the night nurse went by. She was new here, pretty, and he thought of his date in a couple of days. Jennifer was a good-looking woman and if her sister were half as cute, maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. Certainly, there were worse things than enjoying a couple of drinks in the company of a beautiful woman. Because life was short, especially for a guy like him, and he'd got lucky this time…twice. So why not enjoy himself while he could. Besides, it was Teyla's birthday soon and who knows, she might even help him with some shopping…

THE END

Well that's the end of the story and I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks to all of you who stuck with the tale to the bitter end, and to those who took the time and effort to review, a special thank you, because your feedback really is appreciated.

As for this chapter, please continue to review to let me know what you think - Thanks again, Joanie


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